{"id":7818,"date":"2021-12-17T01:00:00","date_gmt":"2021-12-17T06:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newspaperhistory.com\/?p=7818"},"modified":"2021-12-17T01:00:00","modified_gmt":"2021-12-17T06:00:00","slug":"in-the-country-in-the-winter","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/in-the-country-in-the-winter\/","title":{"rendered":"In the Country in the Winter"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p><em>From the <\/em><a href=\"https:\/\/chroniclingamerica.loc.gov\/lccn\/sn92053934\/1913-12-17\/ed-1\/seq-4\/\"><em>Rock Island Argus, December 17, 1913<\/em><\/a><em>. By Henry Howland.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I am longing for the pleasures that the fields alone can give;<br>I am sick of being crowded where the luckless millions live;<br>I am yearning for the freedom that the farmer\u2019s boy enjoys<br>Out there where no busy builders are producing ceaseless noise,<br>Where the frost has made the wattles of the troubled rooster blue<br>And the kitchen door-step\u2019s buried under snow a foot or two.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I am sighing for the pleasure that the farmer doubtless feels<br>As he wades out in the mornings to give Boss and Spot their meals;<br>How I long to be there helping to haul wood upon the sled<br>And to have the joy of chopping up the chunks behind the shed;<br>I can hardly keep from turning from the city with its ills<br>To go out and help the farmer who is doping for his chills.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>What a joy \u2018twould be to never have to dodge or skip and jump;<br>And how sweet in zero weather it would be to thaw the pump;<br>How I hanker for such gladness as the farmer may possess<br>While he has to do the milking when it\u2019s ten below or less;<br>I would say good-bye forever to the city if I could\u2014<br>Gee, I\u2019d like to be a farmer in the winter\u2014YES I WOULD!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>From the Rock Island Argus, December 17, 1913. By Henry Howland. I am longing for the pleasures that the fields alone can give;I am sick of being crowded where the luckless millions live;I am yearning for the freedom that the farmer\u2019s boy enjoysOut there where no busy builders are producing ceaseless noise,Where the frost has [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,7],"tags":[161],"class_list":["post-7818","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-newspapers","category-rock-island-argus","tag-henry-howland"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7818","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7818"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7818\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7818"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7818"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/desperaudio.com\/newspaperpoetry\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7818"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}