Eh, Russians, Fowlers of the universe. You who trailed heaven with the net of dawn, Lift your trumpets! Beneath the plow of storm The dumb earth roars. Golden-tusked, the colter breaks The cliffs. A new sower Roams the fields. New seeds He casts into the furrows. A guest of light drives toward us In a coach. Across the clouds A mare races. The breech-band on the mare: The blue; The bells on the breech-band: The stars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE THAW by HAYDEN CARRUTH THEY ACCUSE ME OF NOT TALKING by HAYDEN CARRUTH SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: TENNESSEE CLAFLIN SHOPE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TWO SONNETS: 1 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON WINDFLOWER LEAF by CARL SANDBURG |