A landscape in Berkshire
Above yon sombre swell of land
Thou see'st the dawn's grave orange hue,
With one pale streak like yellow sand,
And over that a vein of blue.
The air is cold above the woods;
All silent is the earth and sky,
Except with his own lonely moods
The blackbird holds a colloquy.
Over the broad hill creeps a beam,
Like hope that gilds a good man's brow;
And now ascends the nostril-stream
Of stalwart horses come to plough.
Ye rigid Ploughmen, bear in mind
Your labour is for future hours:
Advance-spare not-nor look behind-
Plough deep and straight with all your powers!
The Plough
Richard Henry Horne
(1)
Poem topics: future, hope, lonely, sky, blue, earth, good, deep, mind, cold, silent, straight, grave, orange, labour, yellow, stream, dawn, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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