Farmyard Sonnet.

This is the well-loved hour; a quiet land,
Dusky and drowsy under golden skies,
And animals grown beautiful and wise.
Lonely, remote, the great draught-horses stand
While sheep drift by, a meditative band
With sad calm faces; unguessed patience lies
Deep in this old dog's mournful, steadfast eyes
And cows muse in a silence rich and grand.
Back from the peaty swamp where gold pools shine
And weeds hang thick and clustered bubbles blink,
The kindly ducks come waddling in a line.
This is a sweet and holy hour I think
When all the quiet creatures, horses, sheep,
Ducks and grave cows compose themselves for sleep.

Katherine O'Brien.

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