COME, here is adieu to the city

And hurrah¹ for the country again.

The broad road lies before me

Watered with last night’s rain.

The timbered country woos me

With many a high and bough²;

And again in the shining fallows

The ploughman follows the plough.

The whole year’s sweat and study,

And the whole year’s sowing time,

Comes now to the perfect harvest,

And ripens³ now into rhyme.

For we that sow in the Autumn,

We reap our grain in the Spring,

And we that go sowing and weeping

Return to reap and sing.

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