Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/463

 1850-60.] WILLIAM HUBBARD, 447 No broadcloth fine from foreign land Was for liis coat imported ; No silk or satin for his vest By skillful hands assorted. That coat and vest in cruder form His own sheep wore while grazing, And even his shirt so white was wrought From flax of his own raising. Dependent upon God alone, His bread, or corn, or wheaten, Is garnered from his fertile field, And thankfully is eaten ; The family gathered 'round his board With reverence look to Heaven, And bless the God by whom alone Their competence is given. Ho ! 'tis the Spring — the sunny Spring ! The grass is faintly peeping Above the earth where it so long In icy bonds was sleeping ; The birds are singing in the brake, The cattle loud are lowing, The peacock struts with prouder step, And chanticleer is crowing. Off to his field the farmer hies To plow the lengthened furrow — To rouse the ground-mole from his sleep, The rabbit from his burrow — To turn once more the mellow mould, Or rend the sod long growing. Or with the harrow harsh prepare His field for time of sowing. Anon there come the fervid days, When — like a clear lake laving Its emerald shore with billowy spray — The golden fields are waving. Then does the farmer with the dawn Arouse the laggard sleepers. And hieing merrily away He leads the band of reapers. Lo ! Autumn comes ! the misty days. So balmy, so delicious — No sun "intolerably shines," No wint'ry winds capricious — • The golden apple ripely hangs On orchard bough well laden, And for the purple, clustering grape Go forth the swain and maiden. And while they seek the luscious fruit, They plan the future party — The ever-merry husking night, Of pleasure free and hearty ; Or for the idle who prefer A sport less mixed with toiling. They choose some bright October night For apple-butter boihng. The mind must have its pleasures too. And by the log fire burning. Are old and young with useful books. The storied pages turning — Beguiled are those from ills of age — While these are well preparing For future life — its joys and ills. Its woes or honors bearing. Thus is the farmer's house the home Of innocent enjoyment — Thus pass his moments when relieved From out-of-door employment : Oh ever thus may be his lot Of labor mixed with pleasure Until his threescore years and ten Fill to the brim life's measure. THE PRINTER. We knew a little printer once. Who was a clever fellow Until he got to be quite hard. By dint of getting mellow. He well could "justify his lines," And this induced his thinking