Oh, the morning meads, the dewy meads, <br />Where he ploughs and harrows and sows the seeds, <br />Singing a song of manly deeds, <br />In the blossoming springtime weather; <br />The heart in his bosom as high as the word <br />Said to the sky by the mating bird, <br />While the beat of an answering heart is heard, <br />His heart and love's together. <br /> <br />II. <br /> <br />Oh, the noonday heights, the sunny heights, <br />Where he stoops to the harvest his keen scythe smites, <br />Singing a song of the work that requites, <br />In the ripening summer weather; <br />The soul in his body as light as the sigh <br />Of the little cloud-breeze that cools the sky, <br />While he hears an answering soul reply, <br />His soul and love's together. <br /> <br />III. <br /> <br />Oh, the evening vales, the twilight vales, <br />Where he labors and sweats to the thud of flails, <br />Singing a song of the toil that avails, <br />In the fruitful autumn weather; <br />In heart and in soul as free from fears <br />As the first white star in the sky that clears, <br />While the music of life and of love he hears, <br />Of life and of love together.<br /><br />Madison Julius Cawein<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-song-for-labor-2/
