Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1873-09-11

Sharply the sickle rings out through the air,
Cutting the billowy grass so fair;
Bright shines the sun on the broad hay lands,
Where weariy toll all the harvest hands,
All dsy long. with unceasing zeal,
They have driven the sickle aud swung the steel;
Often. and often they glance at the sun,
And as often wish that their days work was done,
For the heavens all seem like bright molten brass,
And the ground seems to scorch their feet they
pass.
But to old Farmer John, who leaned 'gainst the
It all seemed matter of dollars and cents;
He watched while the mowers fell the rich lay,
And watched til ne Il all hauled away
And while he stood Watching he reckoned the yield
OF hay from the meadow and wheat from the neid
OF hay he reckoned, when all Vas done,
There would be at least full seventy ton;
Each ton, TO count at the lowest rate,
Would bring twelve dollars, sold early or late.
And then he counted each bushel of wheat.
Cleaned from the thrashing of refuse and cheat;
Passed on TO the oats and ran the whole score,
And found he had hundreds of bushels more;
And then, IN fancy, he paid off his hands,
Gathered his corn, ana cleared up his lands,
Balanced things well for the year to come,
And found himself richer by quite a round sum.
Then said, as he Ugh ed his pipe of Clay,
!" knew that common sense farming would pay;
Ny land yields IS well any around.
Better stock ths = nlise can nowhere be found;
My farm is in oder, each pasture and lot,
Ny fences are up when I about.
have reapers enough, and harrows, and now,
Just one thing need-'tis q new Gang plow'
1t Will save, in the end, the wage of man,
And III make by saving whenever can"
The farmer forgot, when he LAID his plans,
The good wife at home. who had stayed his hands,
Who had toiled for him when none other would,
And in every way had done what she could;
Who had starved, and pinched, and shaved herself,
To help him gather his hoard of pelf;
Who had worked, when with fever her hands were
hot,
To help linn purchase one more pasture lot.-
He forgot TO ask, IN his thankess greed,
If there not something his wife might need;
He forgot to ask il she had care,
Or wish as TO how should be spent her share.
He forgot how often, in vain,
That the old farmhouse might be painted again;
He forgot how she'd toiled from year to year,
With the household arrangements all crooked and
queer,
When few days OF labor, or dollars outlay.
Would have fixed things convenient-just the right
way,
And while, in fanny, lie drove his Few pillow,
a certain possession with him now,
Thinking how much il would speed his work,
This new .'Gang pow,r with its new-fangled qurk.
1t never entered his head to buy
A sewing machine for his wife, D Fie,
" His mother had sewed with her hands, and she
Was as good wife woman could be;
He wasn't the man who 'gim-cracks' would BUY,
When money was scarce, and taxes were high"
Time went on all the hay was sold,
The wheat and corn brought plenty of gold,
The pillow was bought, ard with money in bank,
The FARMER a. rich with no one to thank"
With ~ TO thank though his wife was bowed
With striving 10 carry her end of the load,
Bowed aud wrinkled. and scanned with care,
With many and many silvery hair;
Beauty aud youth had slipped away,
In tie wearing duties OF every day;
Till Youth, Ambition, and Health were gone.
What 10 her were broad acres Of waving grain,
When she Ee'er might sons or daughters again
What TO her the barns with grain piled high !?
WHAT the finest stock that money could buy?
Long years ago, she had wanted the gold,
To give her children the wealth untold,
OF education, position and place,
But these were denied to her very face.
Now, when her boys and girls were gone,
And weary and old she was left alone,
Shit only sighed, at the very best,
To DC left a little space for rest;
And when. worn out with toll and strife,
The good wife ended her weary life,
The farmer at what fearful cost
He valued the life that now was lost.
But nnavailing were tears and remorse.
All he would have given his very best horse
To see his wife in the house as OF yore,
But love and the dead return no more.
And this the end All let 1t be told
There some things better than land or gold.
There are things more worth giving a life to gain
Than the choicest stock, For the finest grain"
So Farmer John thinks, as lonely and gray,
He wonders If " common-sense farming docs pay.
Prairie Farmer.