Here
The day was still as honey in a bowl;
The maple-sap came fast, with winter gone
The cattle stood beside the bright snow-pool
Their dung packed down and steaming in the barn.
No help for it — go get your fork and spade
For even those who serve the world with wit
Are trundling down into the deep barn-shade
And blocking up their nose, and shoveling it.
You hacked and grunted all day at my side;
And then we heaped it, drove it up and flung
Great cartloads on the cornfield, near and wide,
Breathing new air rich with earth and dung.
Then stood a little while, single and whole.
And the day still as honey in a bowl.