BEYOND the famous river Utva, Among the Utvinsk hills, In a wide valley, A cornfield was ploughed. Not with the plough was the field ploughed, But with keen Tartar spears. Not with a harrow was the field harrowed, But with swift feet of horses. Not with rye, nor with wheat, was the field sown, But that cornfield was sown With bold Cossack heads. Not with rain was it moistened, Not with strong autumn showers; That field was moistened With burning Cossack tears. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NEW APOCRYPHA: BERENICE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TO-MORROW IS MY BIRTHDAY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |