In The Farmer's House br I'M glad to lie on a sack of leaves br By a wasted fire and take my ease. br For the wind would strip me bare as a tree br The wind would blow oul’ age upon me, br And I'm dazed with the wind, the rain, and the cold! br If I had only the good red gold br To buy me the comfort of a roof, br And under the thatch the brown of the smoke! br I'd he up in my painted room br Until my hired girl would come; br And when the sun had warmed my walls br I'd rise up in my silks and shawls, br And break my fast beside the fire. br And Fd watch them that had to sweat br And shiver for shelter and what they ate br The farmer digging in the fields, br The beggars going from gate to gate, br The horses striving with their loads, br And all the sights upon the roads. br br I'd live my lone without clan nor care, br And none around me to crave a share: br The young have mocking, impudent ways, br And I'd never let them a-nigh my place, br And a child has often a pitiful face.