Songs of the soil; a small sheaf of verse from the field where poetry is lived . Page Fifty-five His Bit Page Fifty-six. When winter winds are blowinWhen its rainin, sleetin*, snowin,*N shiverin cattle turn tail to the storm;Theres a sort of a relievin,Satisfyin, cozy feelinWhen youre sittin round the fire where its warm. N your thoughtsturntothe trenches,Where there are no chairs—nor benchesInvitin-like, placed round a crack- lin fire;From your comfort comes a feelinOf selfishness—the ceilinOut there is sky—n carpets, mud and mire. So your eyes begin a-blinkin As you sit there, thinkin, think

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Songs of the soil; a small sheaf of verse from the field where poetry is lived . Page Fifty-five His Bit Page Fifty-six. When winter winds are blowinWhen its rainin, sleetin*, snowin,*N shiverin cattle turn tail to the storm;Theres a sort of a relievin,Satisfyin, cozy feelinWhen youre sittin round the fire where its warm. N your thoughtsturntothe trenches,Where there are no chairs—nor benchesInvitin-like, placed round a crack- lin fire;From your comfort comes a feelinOf selfishness—the ceilinOut there is sky—n carpets, mud and mire. So your eyes begin a-blinkin As you sit there, thinkin, thinkin. And you wonder how youre goin to do your bit—N your heart begins a-singinAs the words come to you ringinIts food the fellows need—and lots of it. .^

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookidsongsofsoils, bookyear1922