That all your hard toils will seem truly a pleasure!
“He flits through the orchard, he visits each tree,
The red-flowering peach and the apple’s sweet blossoms;
He snaps up destroyers wherever they be;
And seizes the caitiffs that lurk in their bosoms;
He drags the vile grub from the corn it devours,
The worms from their webs, where they riot and welter;
His song and his services freely are ours,
And all that he asks is—in summer a shelter.
“The ploughman is pleased when he gleans in his train,