A NEIGHBOR of mine in the village  
 Likes to tell how one spring  
When she was a girl on the farm, she did  
 A childlike thing.  
 
One day she asked her father           5
 To give her a garden plot  
To plant and tend and reap herself,  
 And he said, “Why not?”  
 
In casting about for a corner  
 He thought of an idle bit           10
Of walled-off ground where a shop had stood,  
 And he said, “Just it.”  
 
And he said, “That ought to make you  
 An ideal one-girl farm,  
And give you a chance to put some strength           15
 On your slim-jim arm.”  
 
It was not enough of a garden,  
 Her father said, to plough;  
So she had to work it all by hand,  
 But she don’t mind now.           20
 
She wheeled the dung in the wheelbarrow  
 Along a stretch of road;  
But she always ran away and left  
 Her not-nice load.  
 
And hid from anyone passing.           25
 And then she begged the seed.  
She says she thinks she planted one  
 Of all things but weed.  
 
A hill each of potatoes,  
 Radishes, lettuce, peas,           30
Tomatoes, beets, beans, pumpkins, corn,  
 And even fruit trees  
 
And yes, she has long mistrusted  
 That a cider apple tree  
In bearing there to-day is hers,           35
 Or at least may be.  
 
Her crop was a miscellany  
 When all was said and done,  
A little bit of everything,  
 A great deal of none.           40
 
Now when she sees in the village  
 How village things go,  
Just when it seems to come in right,  
 She says, “I know!  
 
It’s as when I was a farmer——”           45
 Oh, never by way of advice!  
And she never sins by telling the tale  
 To the same person twice.

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Adriene Marie
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