The Farmworker Poem by Terry Dawson

The barn rooster declares at last,
The new day has begun.
The farmworker prepares himself
To start work with the sun.

The farmworker mops his brow,
Surveys the weed-filled row,
Stretches well his aching back
Then takes up once more his hoe.

The farmworker pauses now,
Lets rest his weary arm,
Then presently takes up again
The tending of the farm.

The day draws toward it's close,
The sun low in the west;
The farmworker's toil is done
And he has earned his rest.

But one thing all farmworkers know,
As sure as they are born:
That while the long, long day is done,
There's new day in the morn.