Meter 12

Whoso fertile land fain would till,
Let him promptly pluck from the field
Fern and thorn, and furze-bush also,
The weeds, in all places eager to injure
The wheat clean-sprinkled, lest it sproutless
Should lie on the land. To all folk likewise
This next example no less suiteth :
The comb of the honey cannot but seem
T’o each son of men sweeter by half,
If he have tasted before the honey
Aught that is bitter. Even thus also
To every mortal more welcome by far
Ts gentle weather, when just before
Storms have assailed him, and the stiff wind.
Out of the north-east. No man would reckon
Daylight a blessing if the dark night
Had not for mortals mustered terrors.
So of earth-dwellers to each it seemeth
That blessedness true is ever the better,
More winsome by far, the more he of woe,
Of cruel hardships, here endureth.
So thou the sooner may’st in thy soul
The truest of blessings trace more clearly,
And to their source soonest arrive,
If first and foremost forth from thy breast,
Root and branch, thou upwrenchest
Happiness false, e’en as the farmer
From his field plucketh ill weeds a plenty.
Then, I warrant thee, thou wilt clearly
Forthwith recognize real blessings,

And thou wilt never have heed for aught else,
When all plainly thou dost perceive them.