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WORK AFIELD
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


108

WORK AFIELD

HUSBAND AND WIFE
H.
All day below, tall trees in row,
In trimming boughs, that kept me warm;
The white chips played, about my blade,
In wood that baffled wind and storm;
No voice did rise, but sounds of cows,
And birds' thin cries, by tangled boughs,
Where leaves down-shed from beeches red,
Had fallen o'er the grassy bank,
Or else lay down, all withered brown,
By elm-trees up in stately rank.


109

W.
I'm sure you must be glad enough
To be in warmth, with wind so rough;
And glad to leave the chirping birds,
To hear a tongue that talks with words.

W.
When you shall sway at mowing hay,
And elm-tree groves shall all be dried,
And Stour below shall wander slow
With glittering waves at eventide;
Or corn in load, on red-wheel rims,
Shall grind the road, or brush tree-limbs,
The while the bell in tower may tell,
'Tis time to shut your day's work out,
And you may flag, and hardly drag
Your labour-wearied limbs about.
Why then, before the fall is come,
Your little girl will hail you home.

H.
Ay, I shall leave the sounds of birds,
To hear Poll's prattling tongue, with words.