From Rude Rural Rhymes by Bob Adams, NewYork: The Macmillan Company; 1925; pp. 25-26.
THE HERITAGE
I dwell in town, for me no more
Stretch woods and fields the house before.
Across the street, to side and rear,
The homes of other men press near.
Yet, come cold winds and colder rain
And snow and shortened days again,
To rural thoughts my mind goes back;
I want a Farmers’ Almanac,
With longing strange, compelling, mystic,
And doubtless partly atavistic.
Old Bay State sires urge, “Take it from us
The one you want is good old Thomas.”
New Hampshire answers, “We’ll not hev it,
Now look here son, you get a Leavitt.”
And thus distracted, nothing loath,
I compromise and buy them both.
Then first, I scan above each date
Quaint pictures, old, appropriate;
In Thomas see Sol’s classic track,
The twelve signs of the zodiac;
While Leavitt limns field work and chores,
The loaded wain, the lusty mowers.
I shun the cold months next the cover
[26]
And other chill days further over,
But linger most where summer’s charm
Lies light and sweet on wood and farm.
I heed no more the winter storm;
My days of June are “fair and warm.”
I hear the drip of summer showers,
I feel the heat of noonday hours;
In rest and labor, rain and shine,
My fathers’ life once more is mine.
New Hampshire trusts to Leavitt’s promise
While Massachusetts cleaves to Thomas,
And so their son, a hybrid growth,
Is well content to swear by both,
No strain upon the double tether
Since both sing sun and growing weather.