The Song of the Prairie Farmer

Out in the open spaces, Away from the strangled town, I plough the lonely furrows Of my long fields, up and down; As the day comes to its closing And the evening-time brings rest, The sun dips behind the mountains In the West.

And there's more than grain is nurtured In the fertile prairie soil. For dreams and beautiful visions Ease the weary hours of toil; Above me—a path of promise— Spans the fabled rainbow of old, At its Westward foot the fairy Pot of gold.

But the way is beset with dangers. As in story books, read long since, There are dragons and ogres in plenty, For the rescuing Fairy Prince; Yet the Prince who boldly ventures Will share with the hands that tilled, When the dream becomes a happy Dream fulfilled.