mild yokes, 1?

Milton, if you were not Milton, bless you,
you'd be as beastly as any brainless ox,
hitched to any old ricket of a plow,
and joyless would you heave it down
long and lonely cabbage rows;
or turn, and thickly plod with heavy hoof
through the ruddy beetroots, and pass invisibly
by them; if by chance working them up
from the dirt, and seeing their frowning beards,
you'd have to trod bullish on, and leave them lay.
I say, a toady for the farmhand you'd be,
and on your sluggier days you'd get a good licking!
Enough to set some speed on you,
trudging down those cabbage rows.