  At husking time the tassel fades To brown above the yellow blades, Whose rustling sheath enswathes the corn That bursts its chrysalis in scorn Longer to lie in prison shades. Among the merry lads and maids The creaking ox-cart slowly wades Twixt stalks and stubble, sacked and torn At husking time. The prying pilot crow persuades The flock to join in thieving raids; The sly racoon with craft inborn His portion steals; from plenty’s horn His pouch the saucy chipmunk lades At husking time. |
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