At length the stir of rural labours still
& industry her care awhile foregoes
When winter comes in earnest to fulfil
His yearly task at bleak Novembers close
& stops the plough & hides the field in snows
When frost locks up the stream in chill delay
& mellows on the hedge the jetty sloes
For little birds then toil hath time for play
& nought but threshers flails awake the dreary day
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