Now up the pasture's slope the ploughed land laps In folds that fall and crumble from the share, Rooks dip to the warm earth, hot leather creaks, The sweat of labouring flesh steams in the air, The flanks of beasts are smooth with sun and toil, The cropped turves that are worn with years of grazing Turn inwards to the steel, and over the long Acres of grassland stretch the ribs of soil. No longer when in summer the clotted shadows Fall from the crest of trees, will they stretch over The lazy turf, but will shadow a new world Of yellow acres, fret and stir of meadows, Green barley, freckled silver by the wind. And corn like a fresh sea across the wold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NEW YEAR'S EVE by DAVID IGNATOW THE FRUIT GARDEN PATH by AMY LOWELL SURFACES AND MASKS; 6 by CLARENCE MAJOR SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: OAKS TUTT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE GAME OF CHESS by EZRA POUND SONNET: 50 by GEORGE SANTAYANA HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 1. VIETNAM by KAREN SWENSON |