Classic Poem

I went in the fields with the leisure I got,
The stranger might smile, but I heeded him not;
The hovel was ready to screen from a shower,
And the book in my pocket was read in an hour.

The bird came for shelter, but soon flew away;
The horse came to look, and seemed happy to stay;
He stood up in quiet, and hung down his head,
And seemed to be hearing the poem I read.

The ploughman would turn from his plough in the day,
And wonder what being had come in his way,
To lie on a molehill, and read the day long,
And laugh out aloud when he finished his song.

The peewit turned over and stooped o'er my head,
Where the raven croaked loud, like the ploughman ill-bred,
But the lark high above charmed me all the day long,
So I sat down and joined in the chorus of song.

The foolhardy ploughman I well could endure,
His praise was worth nothing, his censure was poor;
Fame bade me go on, and I toiled the day long,
Till the fields where he lived should be known in my song.