some night would that wood be left,
There was garden truck placed in the barns of
those by mishap or drought bereft.
And once when the night was clear and bright
in the glorious month of June,
Poor broken-legged Johnson’s garden was
hoed in the light of the great white moon.
And often some farmer by sickness weighed,
and weary, discouraged and poor,
Would find a wad of worn old bills tucked