I till these fields where crops will be
With naught but dreams to walk with me.
Where men beat plowshares into swords
To fight the fight of ancient wars.
Yet, I am sure that what I dream
Is not as grand as it may seem,
For war must need a braver man
Than one who simply works the land.
With naught but dreams to walk with me.
Where men beat plowshares into swords
To fight the fight of ancient wars.
Yet, I am sure that what I dream
Is not as grand as it may seem,
For war must need a braver man
Than one who simply works the land.
And dreams do not repay the loan
That bought the seeds I have sown.
So I am left to walk this field
And take some thought about its yield.
I have no cause for bitterness
For mule and plow have taught me this:
What farmers and poets learn from Earth
Is how to grow the Universe.
That bought the seeds I have sown.
So I am left to walk this field
And take some thought about its yield.
I have no cause for bitterness
For mule and plow have taught me this:
What farmers and poets learn from Earth
Is how to grow the Universe.
That reminds me of Thomas Hardy's In Time of "The Breaking of Nations"
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Only a man harrowing clods
In a slow silent walk
With an old horse that stumbles and nods
Half asleep as they stalk.
II
Only a thin smoke without flame
From the heaps of couch-grass;
Yet this will go onward the same
Though Dynasties pass.
III
Yonder a maid and her wight
Come whispering by:
War’s annals will cloud into night
Ere their story die.
Thanks for posting that, Kelly! I like Hardy's The Darkling Thrush
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