The man of Uz, and other poems | ||
True independence was his, earth and sky being his bankers,
Bills drawn on them, endorsed by toil were never protested.
Bathed in vernal dews was his glistening plough-share,
Birds, newly-returned, the merry nest-builders, bade him good morrow,
Keenly wrought his scythe in summer, where fell the odorous clover,
Clear was his song at autumn-husking amid piles of golden corn.
Winter saw him battling the drifted snows, with his oxen,
Bearing to the neighboring town, fuel that gladden'd the hearth-stone.
Deep in undisturbed beds then slept the dark-featured anthracite,
Steam not having armed itself to exterminate the groves,
Lavishly offering them as a holocaust to winged horses of iron,
Like Moloch, cruel god, dooming the beautiful to the flame.
Bills drawn on them, endorsed by toil were never protested.
Bathed in vernal dews was his glistening plough-share,
Birds, newly-returned, the merry nest-builders, bade him good morrow,
Keenly wrought his scythe in summer, where fell the odorous clover,
Clear was his song at autumn-husking amid piles of golden corn.
Winter saw him battling the drifted snows, with his oxen,
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Deep in undisturbed beds then slept the dark-featured anthracite,
Steam not having armed itself to exterminate the groves,
Lavishly offering them as a holocaust to winged horses of iron,
Like Moloch, cruel god, dooming the beautiful to the flame.
The man of Uz, and other poems | ||