Something inspires the only cow of late To make no more of a wall than an open gate, And think no more of wall-builders than fools. Her face is flecked with pomace and she drools A cider syrup. Having tasted fruit, She scorns a pasture withering to the root. She runs from tree to tree where lie and sweeten The windfalls spiked with stubble and worm-eaten. She leaves them bitten when she has to fly. She bellows on a knoll against the sky. Her udder shrivels and the milk goes dry. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LANDSCAPE by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE RED COUNTRY by WILLIAM ROSE BENET OF THE CHILD WITH THE BIRD AT THE BUSH by JOHN BUNYAN TO CUPID, A FOOLISH POET, OCCASION'D BY AS FOOLISH A POEM OF HIS ... by CHARLES COTTON SONG WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF LADY AUSTEN by WILLIAM COWPER |