Classic Poem

The husbandman doth still go out to hire
Men for his vineyard, which doth labor need;
And of the idlers in the land to inquire,
" Why stand ye idle? " " Up, and sow the seed,
That in the Autumn shall rich harvests yield;
Plant fruitful trees, and vines on every side,
On every hill, and in each fertile field;
Like a fair garden make your Country wide. "
But idle in the market place they stand,
With folded hands, and discontented mind;
While all untilled, unpeopled lies the land!
Murmuring, that none can now employment find;
Or of the goodman of the house complain,
That others for their labor more should gain.

II.

Where spring the cornfields in their tender green,
Or bend and rustle in the summer breeze,
Where in the Autumn, year by year, are seen
The reapers gathering in their golden sheaves,
There dwell domestic happiness and peace;
No more wild savage wanderers men rove;
From their fierce strifes, and idleness they cease,
And in the peaceful arts of life improve.
Dwellings are reared, beneath their roofs are born
Children, with beauty, strength the home to grace;
The virtues, which humanity adorn,
Can find on earth no more congenial place;
The love of kindred, neighbors, country, friends,
Unto the spot a heavenly glory lends.