About my fields, in the broad sun <br />And blaze of noon, there goeth one, <br />Barefoot and robed in blue, to scan <br />With the hard eye of the husbandman <br />My harvests and my cattle. Her, <br />When even puts the birds astir <br />And day has set in the great woods, <br />We seek, among her garden roods, <br />With bells and cries in vain: the while <br />Lamps, plate, and the decanter smile <br />On the forgotten board. But she, <br />Deaf, blind, and prone on face and knee, <br />Forgets time, family, and feast, <br />And digs like a demented beast.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/frag1/
