Each happy bird expands his dappled wings,
Soars with his gentle mate and sweetly sings.
The sounds of early husbandry arise,
In pleasing murmurs, to the pale blue skies;
Shrill floats the ploughman’s whistle, while he speeds
Along the yielding earth his patient steeds.
Joyous the life which tills the pregnant soil,
And sweet the profits of the farmer’s toil:
Content, as smiling as an angel’s face,
Keeps peaceful vigil ’round his dwelling-place;