I saw an old woman plowing a field. (What is life? What does it yield?) The plow was heavy, the horse slow, She swung at the handles and kept her row. The ground was barren, her back bent, Up and over the hill she went. I saw her plowing at break of dawn, Bravely at evening plowing on. I saw an old woman plowing a field For the crumb of bread its rock would yield. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN I WROTE A LITTLE by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOR THE INVESTITURE by CECIL DAY LEWIS THE RETURN (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO THE MARTYRED by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON AT NIGHT; SONNET by AMY LOWELL THE NEGRO DANCERS by CLAUDE MCKAY |