In planting com keep in a regular row,
And let your man come after with the hoe,
Or 'twill be caught up by the crow and sparrow:
In covering wheat of course employ the harrow.
Method in all things, is the proper plan,
The want of it is bad to laboring man.
Should heaven smile, propitious to the end,
You will see, ere long, the ripening harvests bend.
How you'll rejoice to view their golden sheen!
Clean out the hampers and prepare to glean.
Still greater joy must it your heart afford,
To see the crops in ample granaries stored.
Live, and enjoy their fruits, 'tis yours to-day,
To-morrow comes and you may pass away!
But he that spends his time without employ,
Shall neither reap the harvest nor enjoy.
Employment, then, should your attention share,
Tis the best medicine for disease and care,
The cheerful guide to happiness and health,
The only road that leads to certain wealth.
And when the cuckoo's song again you hear,
Plan out the labors of the coming year.
Go where the rich have reared their ample domes:
How snugly quartered in their pleasant homes!
The wintry blasts may sweep along the plain,
They strike the poor, but threaten these in vain.
Do thou the paths of Diligence pursue,
They have reaped her rich rewards, and so may you.
He that would thrive, yet like a sluggard mopes,
And thinks that wealth will crown his foolish hopes,
Is far more apt to thrive in works of evil:
