ABOVE yon sombre swell of land Thou seest the dawn's grave orange hue, With one pale streak like yellow sand, And over that a vein of blue. The air is cold above the woods; All silent is the earth and sky, Except with his own lonely moods The blackbird holds a colloquy. Over the broad hill creeps a beam, Like hope that gilds a good man's brow; And now ascends the nostril-steam Of stalwart horses come to plough. Ye rigid Ploughmen! bear in mind Your labor is for future hours. Advance! spare not! nor look behind! Plough deep and straight with all your powers! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WOUNDED CUPID. SONG by ANACREON ODE ON THE POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS OF THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND by WILLIAM COLLINS (1721-1759) MEMORIAL TO D.C.: 2. PRAYER TO PERSEPHONE by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY HE REMEMBERS FORGOTTEN BEAUTY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS LOVE'S CHANGE by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. SUNDAY MORNING NEAR A MANUFACTURING TOWN by EDWARD CARPENTER |