The Furrow
How sombre slope these acres to the sea
And to the breaking sun! The sun-rise deeps
Of rose and crocus, whence the far dawn leaps,
Gild but with scorn their grey monotony.
The glebe rests patient for its joy to be.
Past the salt field-foot many a dim wing sweeps;
And down the field a first slow furrow creeps,
Pledge of near harvests to the unverdured lea.
With clank of harness tramps the serious team--
The sea air thrills their nostrils. Some wise crows
Feed confidently behind the ploughman's feet.
In the early chill the clods fresh cloven steam,
And down its griding path the keen share goes:
So, from a scar, best flowers the future's sweet.
---
Charles G.D. Roberts (1860-1943)
from Songs of the Common Day, and Ave!, 1893
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]
Charles G.D. Roberts biography
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