~~~~~~poems~~~~~~
THE MAN WITH THE PLOW
(with humble apologies to E. Markham.)
Bronzed by the heat of the sun he follows
The plow, and gazes upon his field.
The look of absolute contentment on his face---
Work is his armor, happiness and honor his shield.
Unlike the Man With the Hoe he is not immune
To rapture and despair. The light still shines within his brain.
He often grieves, but finds new hopes in nature---
Rays of gypsy sun and each small drop of cooling rain.
This is the thing the Lord God made and gave.
To have absolute dominion over land and sea.
To plow the soil and search anew,
And to feel the passion of eternity.
Elements that make this common man are mixed
In this man…to plow beneath the azure sky to blue.
He does not grumble, but his face doth say
“My God needs me. I’m glad that I have work to do.”
Each morn he sees the rift of dawn. The rising of the sun
Doth challenge him to another day of toil;
From his brow he wipes the sweat of honest labor,
Holding doggedly as he turns and breaks the soil.
Through this man the hungry dwellers of the city look,
Respectfully, contentedly, trusting that He who made him
Will give him strength to bring forth wonders from the soil.
He works the crops ad tends them as if they were a child,
While in his faith doth shine the upward looking and the light.
He is appreciative of the morning sunshine,
Thankful for the cooling mystery of the night.
O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands,
How will the future reckon with this man?
This man who helped feed the universe
With constant moving of the naked hand?
His worldly goods not vast---but a heart as pure
As the lands in which he worked. A sympathetic
Understanding of life itself, as no city dweller knows.
This Man With the Plow will stand before his God
And see his name written in a stainless book, as
“The Man With the Plow. The man who broke the sod,
and understanding the beauties of His handiwork,
he loved his God.”
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