My soul is a dark ploughed field In the cold rain; My soul is a broken field Ploughed by pain. Where grass and bending flowers Were growing, The field lies broken now For another sowing. Great Sower when you tread My field again, Scatter the furrows there With better grain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...GHOSTS OF THE OLD YEAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SELLING HER ENGAGEMENT RING by KAREN SWENSON A SONG [OF DIVINE LOVE] by RICHARD CRASHAW PASSING BY by THOMAS FORD (1580-1648) RUPERT BROOKE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON MIDWINTER BLUES by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES EPODE: 2. THE PRAISES OF A COUNTRY LIFE by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS |