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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
OATS WILD TURN MILD, by THRALL BUELL First Line: I think of my life as a planting Last Line: Last night I held my child. | |||
I think of my life as a planting, A sowing of seeds more or less; Some have yielded fine foliage, Others mere pottage -- a mess. I have also sown many an oat crop, The variety well known as wild, But those days are gone forever -- Last night I held my child. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A TERRIBLE INFANT by FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY AT BELZONI'S EXHIBITION by HORACE SMITH JOHN BROWN OF OSAWATOMIE [OCTOBER 16, 1859] by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN THE LETTER; EDWARD ROWLAND SILL, DIED FEBRUARY 27, 1887 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH VERSES WRITTEN ON THE BACK OF AN OLD VISITATION COPY OF ARMS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |
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