Nowas the Husbandman, whose Costs and Pain,Whose Hopes and Helps lie buried in his Grain,Waiting a happy Spring to ripen fullHis long'd-for Harvest, to the Reapers pull;Stand we expecting, having sown our GroundWith so much charge, (the fruitfulness not found)The Harvest of our Labours: For we knowYou are our Spring; and when you smile, we grow.Nor Charge nor Pain, shall bind us from your Pleasures,So you but lend your hands to fill our Measures.
Nowas the Husbandman, whose Costs and Pain,Whose Hopes and Helps lie buried in his Grain,Waiting a happy Spring to ripen fullHis long'd-for Harvest, to the Reapers pull;Stand we expecting, having sown our GroundWith so much charge, (the fruitfulness not found)The Harvest of our Labours: For we knowYou are our Spring; and when you smile, we grow.Nor Charge nor Pain, shall bind us from your Pleasures,So you but lend your hands to fill our Measures.
FINIS.