Pity a troubled little farm tonight, Half-buried in sand and dry dead grass. Pity the lowing cattle, unhoused, that pass Slowly along the ridge To wait recurrent dawnings. Pity the farmer in thin gray coat lifting A half empty bucket from the well -- Pondering in his heart what next to sell Or trade for things he could have raised Had there been water. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CITIZEN OF THE WORLD by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER SUPER FLUMINA BABYLONIS by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE SHEEP AND LAMBS by KATHARINE TYNAN RECOMPENSE by JESSE M. BALL ALLEN A PICTURE AT NEWSTEAD by MATTHEW ARNOLD UP TO ME by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE LIMERICK by ROBERT JONES BURDETTE |