Classic Poem

Before the bright sun rises over the hill,
In the cornfield poor Mary is seen,
Impatient her little blue apron to fill,
With the few scattered ears she can glean.

She never leaves off, or runs out of her place,
To play, or to idle and chat;
Except now and then, just to wipe her hot face,
And fan herself with her broad hat.

‘Poor girl, hard at work in the heat of the sun,
How tired and hot you must be;
Why don't you leave off, as the others have done,
And sit with them under the tree?’

‘O no! for my mother lies ill in her bed,
Too feeble to spin or to knit;
And my poor little brothers are crying for bread,
And yet we can't give them a bit.

‘Then could I be merry, and idle, and play,
While they are so hungry and ill?
O no, I would rather work hard all the day,
My little blue apron to fill.’