"How blest, if they but knew it, how blest are they, The husbandmen, for whom the months conspire,— The springing seasons melt into the May, The genial winter comes with feast and fire!"— More blest God's labourers, who day by day From holier husbandry nor turn nor tire, On whose sweet shepherding has fallen alway From heaven a satisfied and new desire. All winter long their happy flocks they guide Thro' pastures green, thro' vales tha laugh and sing; All winter long they pluck on every side Fruit that endures and flowers not withering; For fields like theirs each month is harvesttide, And for such sowers all the year is spring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVER'S MESSAGE; SONG by JOHN DRYDEN SONNET by ALICE RUTH MOORE DUNBAR-NELSON TO-NIGHT by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON SATIRE: 1. TO JOHN POYNZ (POINS) by THOMAS WYATT MERCURY; ON LOSING MY POCKET MILTON AT LUSS NEAR BEN LOMOND by ROBERT ANDREWS LITTLE WINDOWS by CHARLES GRANGER BLANDEN |