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Poetry

Poetry image
Parent Issue
Day
25
Month
September
Year
1847
Copyright
Public Domain
OCR Text

A liardy. sunburnt man a he, A hurdy sunburnl man; No turdier man you'll evey see, Tliough all the world you sean. Iu Kiiciimcj's heni, in winler's cold, Yüu'II finj him ai his toil - Oh. lar abovo ihc kniglns ofold, Ís ihe Tiller of ihe Suil. No weighiy bare secure his door, No dilch is dug around; His walla no cannon brisileo'er, No dcad lie on his ground. A peacelul laborcr is he, Unknuwn in Earth'a turmoil- From many crushing sorrows freo Is the Tillcrof ihe Suil. His 9'acks are seen on every ide, His barne are filted wlth grain; Tliough others hail not fortune' lide, He lubors nol in vain. The land gives up its rich inctease, The swect reward of loil; And blest wiih happiness nnd peaco, Is the Tiller of the Soill He trudges out at brenk of dny, And takes his way along; And as he turns the yieldiug clny, lie aings a joyful song. Ha is no iluil unhuppy wiglitt ïiuühd in ïiii&loi turie's co:l; Thesmile is bright, the lieart is light, Of the Tülerof the So.l! Ard when the oib ofday hos crown'd With go!d the Western sky, Bttlofe his dwcMing he is found, Willi checrful faces by - Wilh linie laughing duplícate, Curtsses will nol spoil; Oh, j"y ut every side awaits The Tiller jf the Soil. A harriy. sunhurnt man is he, A hurdy, suntuirni man; Rul wiu can bonst u hand o free, As hc, the Tiller caü 1 Nor sumnier'o bral, nor winter' cold, The power has him to luil - Oh, f.:r aliove the knightdof old, Is the Tillor a{ rha Soil!

Article

Subjects
Signal of Liberty
Old News