Explore "The Hills of Hingham" by Dallas Lore Sharp on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Poets, I said, have kept pigs for an escape from their poetry. But keeping pigs is not all prose. I put my old clothes on to feed him, it is true; he takes me out behind the barn; but he also takes me one day in the year out into the woods -- a whole day in the woods -- with rake and sacks and hay-rig, and the four boys, to gather him leaves for bedding.
Leafing Day is one of the days in red on the Mullein Hill Calendar; and of all our days in the woods surely none of them is fresher, more fragrant, more joyous, and fuller of poetry than the day we go to rake and sack and bring home the leaves for the pig.