Child life: a collection of poems . heart! There are drops on my cheek; theres a throb in my my song shall not cease, nor my pen take its rest,Till I tell that old Dobliin still lives to be his oats in the stable, his tares on the green. His best years have gone by, and the master who gaveThe stern yoke to his youtli has enfranchised the slave ;So browse on, my old Dobbin, nor dream of the knife,. For the wealth of a king should not purchase thy life. — Eliza Cook. FARM-YARD SONG. Over the hill the farm-))oy shadow lengthens along the land,A giant staff in a giant
Child life: a collection of poems . heart! There are drops on my cheek; theres a throb in my my song shall not cease, nor my pen take its rest,Till I tell that old Dobliin still lives to be his oats in the stable, his tares on the green. His best years have gone by, and the master who gaveThe stern yoke to his youtli has enfranchised the slave ;So browse on, my old Dobbin, nor dream of the knife,. For the wealth of a king should not purchase thy life. — Eliza Cook. FARM-YARD SONG. Over the hill the farm-))oy shadow lengthens along the land,A giant staff in a giant hand ;In the poplar-tree, above the katydid begins to sing ; The early dews are falling ; — <Into the stone-heap darts the mink ;The swallows skim the rivers brink ;And home to the woodland fly the over the hill the farm-boy goes. Cheerily calling, —? Co, boss ! CO, boss ! co ! co ! co ! 84 CHILD LIFE. Farther, farther over the hill,Faintly calling, caUing still, — Co boss ! CO, boss ! co ! co !. -?^i-J^fu^ Into tlie yard the farmer goes. With grateful heart, at the close of day : Harness and chain are hung away ; In the wagon-shed stand yoke and plough ; The straws in the stack, the hay in the mow, The cooling dews arc falling ; —The friendly sheep his welcome bleat,The prgs come grunting to his feet,The whinnying mare her master knows,When into the yard the farmer cattle calling, — Co, boss ! co, boss ! co! co I co I OUT OF DOORS. 86 While still the cow-boy, far away,Goes seeking those that have gone astray, —? Co, boss ! co, boss ! co I co ! Now to her task the milkmaid cattle come crowding through the gate,Lowing, pushing, little and great ;About the trough, by the farm-yard pump,The frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump, While the pleasant dews are falling ; —The new-milch heifer is quick and the old cow waits with tranquil eye ;And the white stream into the bright pail flows,When to her task the milkmaid go
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Keywords: ., book, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksubjectchildrenspoetry
