The cattle graze in pasture still <br />The plowmans horse, the soil to till <br />And soon the fields the farmer sow <br />His keep to earn, the crops he grow <br />Then harvest come, for it be fall <br />And once again his produce haul <br />To the market, far and wide <br />And dread the winter, to abide <br />Beside his stove, with family 'round <br />A greater treasure ne'er be found <br />To sing and dance, the stories told <br />And reminisce the days of old <br />This be the life, think not so bad <br />But sometimes happy, often sad <br />This be heritage, great or small <br />And this be winter, no more fall <br />The waters now, as hard as stone <br />The fields be white, the fences blown <br />Now settled down, in soft warm bed <br />To sleep 'til morn <br />The Good Book read<br /><br />John Leroy Maxwell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/family-farming/
