BLACK wings and white in the hollow Follow the track of the team, While the sun from the noon declining Is shining on toil-wet brows. Birds of the mountain and sea-birds Circle and swoop and scream, Searching for spoils of the furrow Where slowly the ploughman ploughs. Make me room, O birds! I am sweeping From the Boughs of Sleeping afar; I have winged thro' the mists of the ages, Where sages drone and drowse; I follow the feet of the Horses That drag the Morning Star, To search in the spoils of the furrow, Where God the Ploughman ploughs. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FEARS IN SOLITUDE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE NOBLEMAN AND THE PENSIONER by GOTTLIEB KONRAD PFEFFEL AN ATHENIAN GARDEN by TRUMBULL STICKNEY TO THE VERS LIBRIST WHO USES ONLY THE MINOR KEY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE SABBATH LAMP by GRACE AGUILAR THE DAWN PATROL by PAUL BEWSHER |