Against the soft, dark velvet of this case Corn spills, from bursting pouch of old gray skin, Its seam hand-sewn in yucca thread; "How pitiful," I think; "why give it place?" And bend to read, "five thousand years ago -- " That spring she grew this corn for bread! She knew this land we love and call our own! Our redbuds' cloudy pink in early spring And wild plum blossoms white, far-flung Along Canadian and Cimarron. She saw our far horizon's distant blue When Egypt's pyramids were young! Our prairie primrose softly bloomed for her On starry nights, with Babylon unborn; She heard our kildee's poignant cry The day that Abraham went out from Ur. Before dark oxen plowed the plains of Troy Our keening winds wailed down her sky. Exult -- that time and chance should save This human bond her brown hands threw to us! Exult, all humble folk who plow -- Who plant, and gather grain -- in her who gave This pouch of seeds across the silences That spread from Nineveh to Now! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BIRDS DO THUS by ROBERT FROST JAWEH AND ALLAH BATTLE by ALLEN GINSBERG A DIM DOORWAY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BROTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IN QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON RECOMPENSE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |