CHAPTER V

SAVING OUR SOULS

O work--thrice blessed of the gods--
Abundant may you be!
To hold us steady, when our hearts
Grow cold and panicky!

I cannot fret--and drive the plough,--
Nor weep--and ply the spade;
O blessed work--I need you now
To keep me unafraid!

No terrors can invade the place
Where honest green things thrive;
Come blisters--backache--sunburnt face--
And save my soul alive!


No wonder that increased production has become a popular cry. Every
one wants to work in a garden--a garden is so comforting and
reassuring. Everything else has changed, but seedtime and harvest
still remain. Rain still falls, seeds sprout, buds break into leaves,
and blossoms are replaced by fruit.

We are forced back to the elemental things. Horses and cattle look
better to me every day. Read the war news--which to-day tells of the
destruction of French villages--and then look at the cattle grazing