Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE PLOWMAN, by REX GEORGE FULLER


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE PLOWMAN, by                    
First Line: Brown stubble turning across
Last Line: Someone will sow it, for someone to reap.
Subject(s): Plowing & Plowmen


Brown stubble turning across the bright share,
Black earth laid down with a straight steady care,
Blue sky above, and soft eloquent air
Braced with a foretaste of winter, -- and sleep.

Slither of wheel and soft jingle of chain,
Swing at the furrow's end, plod on again;
Down the horizon, a hint of fall rain
Counsels no haste; there is none, when you creep.

Pensive I sit on the low sulky seat,
Turning the stubble of harvested wheat,
Tuning my thoughts to the slow muffled beat
That the feet of the great patient plow-horses keep.

What have I given, or gained, when I've done, --
(Finished, or not, by the grace of the sun),
Crossing a mile for a few furrows won?
Peace, perhaps? Patience? Cool stillness? Calm sleep?

Yes, some of these; and the field, too, is plowed.
Fallow it lies, under lowering cloud.
So I pass on. But for Spring I am proud, --
Someone will sow it, for someone to reap.





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