Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SPRING PLOWING, by BEULAH JACKSON CHARMLEY



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SPRING PLOWING, by            
First Line: I tear a fertile wrinkle in the field
Last Line: When all these teeming fields will come to birth.
Subject(s): Plowing & Plowmen


I tear a fertile wrinkle in the field
Of rotting stubble, with my keen plowshare,
That flashes in the sun like polished shield;
The while around me grows in April air
The pungence of my team, of harness leather,
Of acrid soil itself.

Against the sky
A wedge of northbound ducks predict soft weather
(Mallard with head of green, the Golden Eye
With snowy bonnet); and a laggard asks
For time. The leader sends his wilding call
Backward across the budding fields of earth
To hearten him and me.

I tear the masks
Of winter from the land and dream of fall
When all these teeming fields will come to birth.





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