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Where the Cattle Come to Drink

by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

At evening, where the cattle come to drink,
Cool are the long marsh-grasses, dewy cool
The alder thickets, and the shallow pool,
And the brown clay about the trodden brink.
The pensive afterthoughts of sundown sink
Over the patient acres given to peace;
The homely cries and farmstead noises cease,
And the worn day relaxes, link by link.

A lesson that the open heart may read
Breathes in this mild benignity of air,
These dear, familiar savours of the soil,—
A lesson of the calm of humble creed,
The simple dignity of common toil,
And the plain wisdom of unspoken prayer.