Explore "The Splitter" by Edward Dyson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In the morn when the keen blade bites the tree, / And the chips on the dead leaves dance, / And the bush echoes back right merrily / Blow for blow as the sunbeams glance / From the axe when it sweeps in circles true, / Then the splitter at heart is gay; / He exults in the work he's set to do, / And he feels like a boy at play.
Swinging free with a stroke that's straight and strong / To the heart of the messmate sent, / He is cheered by the magpie's morning song / With the ring of the metal blent, / But the birds in their terror scatter high / When she falls with a rush and bound, / And the quivering saplings split and fly, / And the ranges all roar around.