TheThe summer sun is setting,
⁠The sky is red in the west,
And over all hangs silence,
⁠And a feeling of peace and rest.

The sultry day is over,
⁠The light begins to fade,
The farmer’s weary horses
⁠Are standing in the shade.

The golden light of sunset
⁠Shines on the corn-fields round,
And the breeze, as it passes over,
⁠Makes a sweet, rippling sound.

The range of distant mountains
⁠Looks dark against the sky;
And right across the river,
⁠A path of light doth lie.

I gazed till my eyes were dazzled,
⁠At the slowly sinking sun, —
Till the stars peeped out above me,
⁠Telling the day was done.

Happy I count the farmer's life,
⁠Its various round of wholesome toil;
An honest man with loving wife,
⁠And offspring native to the soil.

Thrice happy, surely! — in his breast
⁠Plain wisdom and the trust in God;
His path more straight from east to west
⁠Than politician ever trod.

His gain's no loss to other men;
⁠His stalwart blows inflict no wound;
Not busy with his tongue or pen,
⁠He questions truthful sky and ground.

Partner with seasons and the sun,
⁠Nature's co-worker; all his skill
Obedience, ev'n as waters run,
⁠Winds blow, herb, beast their laws fulfil.

A vigorous youthhood, clean and bold;
⁠A manly manhood; cheerful age;
His comely children proudly hold
⁠Their parentage best heritage.

Unhealthy work, false mirth, chicane,
⁠Guilt, — needless woe, and useless strife, —
O cities, vain, inane, insane! —
⁠How happy is the farmer’s life!

O my child-love, my love of long ago,
⁠How great was life when you and I were young!
The world was boundless for we did not know;
⁠And life a poem for we had not sung.

Now is the world grown small, and we thereon
⁠Fill with wise toil and woe each flying day;
Elves from the wood, dreams from my heart are gone,
⁠And heaven is bare, for God is far away.

O my child-love, cannot you come again,
And I look on you with grave innocent eyes?
⁠Your God has many angels; I would fain
Woo for one hour one angel from the skies.

O my child-love, come back, come back to me,
⁠And laughing lead me from the care and din;
Lay on my heart those small hands tenderly
⁠And lovingly to let the whole world in.

⁠A fool for my doubting and dreaming
⁠And following up and down!
Shall I fill my life with scheming
⁠For a touch of my lady's gown?

Shall I plot from night to morning
⁠For the glance of a woman's eye?
And take the wage of scorning,
⁠And wear shame’s livery?

O footman, O wonder of whiteness
⁠And diplomatic cockade,
O footman of much politeness
⁠For my lady's lady's-maid, —

As you open the door of the carriage,
⁠Just tell her I've gone away,
But will come to dance at her marriage
⁠On somebody's happy day.

When the lightning flashes by night,
⁠The raindrops seem
A million jewels of light
⁠In the moment's gleam.

And often in gathering fears,
⁠A moment of love
To jewels will turn the tears
⁠That it cannot remove.