The foddering boy

The foddering boy along the crumping snows 
With straw band belted legs & folded arm 
Hastens & on the blast that keenly blows 
Oft turns for breath & beats his fingers warm 
& shakes the lodging snows from off his cloaths
Buttoning his doublet closer from the storm 
& slouching his brown beaver oer his nose 
Then faces it agen—& seeks the stack 
Within its circling fence—were hungry lows 
Expecting cattle making many a track 
About the snows—impatient for the sound 
When in hugh fork fulls trailing at his back 
He litters the sweet hay about the ground 
& bawls to call the staring cattle round

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