I blanked out a word that would give it away.
Perhaps the summertime suggests to you thoughts of the country, visions of green fields and mountains and sparkling lakes. It had no such suggestion to the people in the yards.
The great packing machine ground on remorselessly, without thinking of green fields, and the men and women and children who were part of it never saw any green thing, not even a flower.
They were tied to the great packing machine, and tied to it for life.