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How sweet the music of the rain,
At evening or morn, When clouds with trails that reach the ground Pass o'er the fields of corn. Man's work is done. The toiling days Of heat and anxious care Are ended, and the falling rain With music fills the air. How long and hard the fight since first Was turned the lifeless sod, Since first the harrow surged its way To pulverize each clod, How long since planting of the seed, The sacrifice each morn, To keep the weeds from growing where Now stands the field of corn. Out from my window to the fields I cast a grateful eye, I see the raindrops falling down From out the cloudy sky, And as they fall upon the fields New hopes in me are born, For plenty dwells when July rains Fall on the fields of corn. __Ed. Blair. |
Kansas Zephyrs
Ed. Blair
(Madison, Wis.: American Thresherman. 1901)
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