I stand again in the field Where first my father broke The prairie sod, and the sweating team Passed with the creak of yoke And straining tug, and steam Arose from the furrows that rolled, Tough and straight and black, under the morning's gold. Many times he has said He remembers, each spring that comes, The wild flowers and the steady roll Of the prairie chicken drums Upon each sunny knoll, And how the tall grass sighed As it fell beneath the share and his relentless stride. Sometimes I wished I had known The field when it was wild And beautiful ... but remembered then Although my father smiled When he told of it again, He had lost a treasured thing -- Something he wished to keep ... and kept remembering. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 50 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN MODERN LOVE: 34 by GEORGE MEREDITH LUCY (5) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE RIVER DUDDON: SONNET 34. AFTER-THOUGHT by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH QUATRAIN: FROM EASTERN SOURCES: 1 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A GIFT OF SPRING by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE END OF THE SUNSET TRAIL by ALMA C. BINGHAM |