Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life Connecticut River reeds blown by the "Peasant Bard" |
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THE FIELD FLOWER. |
 | Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life |  |
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THE FIELD FLOWER.
I bade the panting oxen stay
The turf-inverting plough,
For fervid beat the vernal day,
And damp with toil my brow.
The turf-inverting plough,
For fervid beat the vernal day,
And damp with toil my brow.
So, idly halting with the team,
For want of else to do
I pulled a flower, beneath the beam,
That o'er the furrow grew.
For want of else to do
I pulled a flower, beneath the beam,
That o'er the furrow grew.
A thousand times I'd seen it blow
And crushed it with the plough,
But never cared its name to know
Or heed it, until now.
And crushed it with the plough,
But never cared its name to know
Or heed it, until now.
Now, as I scann'd with new delight
Its leaves and petals o'er,
A wondrous beauty met my sight,
Not dreamed its own before.
Its leaves and petals o'er,
A wondrous beauty met my sight,
Not dreamed its own before.
And as the plough moved on again
I followed, musing how
Among the lofty sons of men
Worth may as humbly bow;
I followed, musing how
Among the lofty sons of men
Worth may as humbly bow;
Exempt, as is yon little flower,
Alike from praise or blame;
As homely in its outward dower,
As noteless in a name;
Alike from praise or blame;
As homely in its outward dower,
As noteless in a name;
Unnoticed by the would-be great,
Downtrodden and passed by,
As sure beneath life's furrow weight
In cold neglect to lie;
Downtrodden and passed by,
As sure beneath life's furrow weight
In cold neglect to lie;
Unless, perchance,—the chance how rare!
Some turn of fortune's wheel
Lift from the dust the treasure fair,
And all its wealth reveal.
Some turn of fortune's wheel
Lift from the dust the treasure fair,
And all its wealth reveal.
| Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life | |