Sugaring-Time
The crows above the woodlot
Are out on flapping wings,
And in the dooryard maple
An early robin sings;
Beside the barn the cattle
Stand warming in the sun,
And it is clear that spring is here
And sugaring has begun.
Go yoke the brindle oxen,
And get the draw tubs out,
The maple grove shall echo
The teamster’s hearty shout;
Old Jack, the dog, is waiting
To help the work along;
At every tree a bucket,
In every heart a song.
Is there a season dearer
Than this to country folk,
When every old brown sugarhouse
Is sending up its smoke?
We’ve weathered the long winter
That sealed our northern clime
And thank the Lord, we’ve lived to see
Another sugaring-time.
–Florence Boyce-Davis circa 1954