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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...SWALLOW FLIGHT by SARA TEASDALE SEVEN TIMES SEVEN [- LONGING FOR HOME] by JEAN INGELOW ON THE DEATH OF DR. ROBERT LEVET, A PRACTISER IN PHYSIC by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1709-1784) ON SOMETHING THAT WALKS SOMEWHERE by BEN JONSON HAUNTED HOUSES by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SMALL THINGS by BERENICE K. BOSS THE CHRISTENING by AMY SHERMAN BRIDGMAN TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. AFTER THE DAY'S WORK by EDWARD CARPENTER |
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