如題thanks!
all winter through I bow my head beneath the driving rain;
the North Wind powder me with snow and blows me black again;
at midnight 'neath a maze of stars I flame with glittering rime,
and stand above the stubble,
stiff as mail at morning-prime.
but when that child called spring,
and all his host of children come,
scattering their buds and dew upon these acres of my home,
some rapture in my rags awakes,i lift void eyes and scan the sky for crows,
those ravening foes, of my strange master, man
i watch him striding lank behind his clashing team,
and know soon will the wheat swish body high where once lay a sterile snow;
soon i shall gaze across a sea of sun-begotten grain,
which my unflinching watch hath sealed for harvest once again.