Rows of corn and potato stalks extend beyond sight;
Amidst young kales, thick spinach increase with green.
The hour is both long and bright;
Among Peasant sense of hard work is keen.
Raised paths and narrow tracks interlink myriads of villages;
Row on row of uniformed trees for borders make the best hedges.
Far and nigh, A thousand billows springs up from a thousand homesteads.
Low or high, rowdy laughters spread; it’s the dusk mead.
chats of fat fat domestics mostly offer the best debates;
At leisure gallant farmers drink up till late.
The sky scraping ridge and the turbid river converge at the bridge,
Past the aged hill, a small town comes to view; I am come home anew.