In the Pauper's Turnip-Field

Crow, in pulpit lone and tall
Of yon charred hemlock, grimly dead,
Why on me in preachment call--
Me, by nearer preachment led
Here in homily of my hoe.
The hoe, the hoe,
My heavy hoe
That earthward bows me to foreshow
A mattock heavier than the hoe.
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