POEMS. 337 



All day they ply their task ; with mutual chat, 

 Beguiling each the sultry, tedious hours. 

 Around them falls in rows the sever'd corn, 

 Or the shocks rise in regular array. 



But when high noon invites to short repast, 

 Beneath the shade of sheltering thorn they sit, 

 Divide the simple meal, and drain the cask : 

 The swinging cradle lulls the whimpering babe, 

 Meantime ; while growling round, if at the tread 

 Of hasty passenger alarm'd, as of their store 

 Protective, stalks the cur with bristling back, 

 To guard the scanty scrip and russet frock. 



