Читать книгу Wisconsin in Story and Song - Various - Страница 8

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A lonely task it is to plough!

All day the black and clinging soil

Rolls like a ribbon from the mould-board's

Glistening curve. All day the horses toil

Battling with the flies—and strain

Their creaking collars. All day

The crickets jeer from wind-blown shocks of grain.

October brings the frosty dawn,

The still, warm noon, the cold, clear night,

When torpid insects make no sound,

And wild-fowl in their southward flight

Go by in hosts—and still the boy

And tired team gnaw round by round,

At weather-beaten stubble, band by band,

Until at last, to their great joy,

The winter's snow seals up the unploughed land.