The Persistence

He was such a sullen farmer

That grew but matured sprout

From the season's beginnings

With passion no less devout.

But he was blessed

With a bright face and strong form

To keep itself well pampered

And protected from the storm.

Thus, he resided in a large

Majestic home, upon the rising

Hills, over his piece of land

And many expendable things.

In summer, he worked the soil

With his infernal machines atop,

With his jolly wages, he bought

Seeds of confusion from anarchy's shop.

In the deluge, his labors reduced

And he only had to drain

Water's envy from patch to patch

For drying off each of his grain.

But the greatest leisure,

Came at punctual harvest,

And never could malignant snakes

Steal from empty capricious nests.