I Know These Woods
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His castle is in Middlesex though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My burro must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have a farm to find,
And cows to milk before I sleep,
And cows to milk before I sleep.
"Every day working, you just eat, rest, and the work waits for you. It’s a little hard, it’s not easy, but, well, our thought is that it’s worth the pain to suffer a few years to have something." - Vermont Dairy Farmer