Poems (Cook)/Song of the Haymakers

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4454068Poems — Song of the HaymakersEliza Cook

SONG OF THE HAYMAKERS.
The noontide is hot and our foreheads are brown;
Our palms are all shining and hard;
Right close is our work with the wain and the fork,
And but poor is our daily reward.
But there's joy in the sunshine, and mirth in the lark
That skims whistling away over head;
Our spirits are light, though our skins may be dark,
And there's peace with our meal of brown bread.
We dwell in the meadows, we toil on the sward,
Far away from the city's dull gloom;
And more jolly are we, though in rags we may be,
Than the pale faces over the loom.
Then a song and a cheer for the bonnie green stack,
Climbing up to the sun wide and high;
For the pitchers, and rakers, and merry haymakers,
And the beautiful Midsummer sky!

Come forth, gentle ladies—come forth, dainty sirs,
And lend us your presence awhile;
Your garments will gather no stain from the burs,
And a freckle won't tarnish your smile.
Our carpet's more soft for your delicate feet
Than the pile of your velveted floor;
And the air of our balm-swath is surely as sweet
As the perfume of Araby's shore.
Come forth, noble masters, come forth to the field,
Where freshness and health may be found;
Where the wind-rows are spread for the butterfly's bed,
And the clover bloom falleth around.
Then a song and a cheer for the bonnie green stack,
Climbing up to the sun wide and high;
For the pitchers, and rakers, and merry haymakers,
And the beautiful Midsummer sky!

"Hold fast!" cries the waggoner, loudly and quick,
And then comes the hearty "Gee-wo!"
While the cunning old team-horses manage to pick
A sweet mouthful to munch as they go.
The tawny-faced children come round us to play,
And bravely they scatter the heap;
Till the tiniest one, all outspent with the fun,
Is curl'd up with the sheep-dog, asleep.
Old age sitteth down on the haycock's fair crown,
At the close of our labouring day;
And wishes his life, like the grass at his feet,
May be pure at its "passing away."
Then a song and a cheer for the bonnie green stack,
Climbing up to the sun wide and high;
For the pitchers, and rakers, and merry haymakers,
And the beautiful Midsummer sky!