Anonymous-0
Well-known Member
Calls the crow from the pine tree top
When the April air is still.
He calls to the farmer hitching his team
In the farmyard under the hill.
"Come up!" he cries,"Come out and come up,
For the high field"s ripe to till!
Come up from the damp of the valley lands,
For here the winter is done."
Then dips the coulter and drives the share,
And the furrows faintly steam;
The crow drifts furtively down from the pin,
To follow the clanking team,
And wholesome sweet the smell of the sod
Upturned from its winter"s dream.
FARM JOURNAL 1907.
When the April air is still.
He calls to the farmer hitching his team
In the farmyard under the hill.
"Come up!" he cries,"Come out and come up,
For the high field"s ripe to till!
Come up from the damp of the valley lands,
For here the winter is done."
Then dips the coulter and drives the share,
And the furrows faintly steam;
The crow drifts furtively down from the pin,
To follow the clanking team,
And wholesome sweet the smell of the sod
Upturned from its winter"s dream.
FARM JOURNAL 1907.