Hamlin Garland (Гэмлин Гарленд)
The Meadow Lark
A BRAVE little bird that fears not God, A voice that breaks from the snow-wet clod With prophecy of sunny sod, Set thick with wind-waved goldenrod. From the first bare clod in the raw, cold spring, From the last bare clod, when fall winds sting, The farm-boys hears his brave song ring, And work for the time is a pleasant thing.
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