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A COUNTRY PHILOSOPHER

Having commended the poetry of Frank Stanton, here is one of my favorites from him which might be useful for a Monday and comes to my mind since my travel plans this weekend were interrupted by a snow storm. :)

“A Country Philosopher”

The cold has killed the corn off an’ blighted all the wheat;
The ice is on the peach blooms an’ the apple blossoms sweet,
An’ the country is in mournin’ from the mountains to the sea,
But the good Lord runs the weather, an’ it ain’t a-botherin’ me!

The bees was out fer honey an’ a-workin’ fer their lives,
But the blizzard stopped their buzzin’, an’ they’re froze up in their hives;
An’ there won’t be any sweetnin’ fer the coffee or the tea,
But the good Lord runs the weather, an’ it ain’t a-botherin’ me!

The mockin’ birds was singin’ jest the sweetest kind o’ notes,
But now they’re sittin’ silent with a flannel roun’ their throats;
An’ there won’t be any music ’til the summer time to be,
But the good Lord runs the weather, an’ it ain’t a-botherin’ me!

It don’t make any difference what these changin’ seasons bring;
If it’s cold, the fire’s a-blazin’, an’ I hear the chimney sing;
If it’s hot, the trees is shady, with the breeze a-blowin’ free,
Fer the good Lord runs the weather, an’ it ain’t a-botherin’ me!

- Frank Stanton (1857-1927)

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