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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
OATS WILD TURN MILD, by THRALL BUELL First Line: I think of my life as a planting Last Line: Last night I held my child. | |||
I think of my life as a planting, A sowing of seeds more or less; Some have yielded fine foliage, Others mere pottage -- a mess. I have also sown many an oat crop, The variety well known as wild, But those days are gone forever -- Last night I held my child. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN I BUY PICTURES by MARIANNE MOORE THE SUMMER IS ENDED (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. MR. GEORGE WHITEFIELD, 1770 by PHILLIS WHEATLEY THE MIST AND ALL by DIXIE WILLSON THE SECOND MOTHERHOOD by ST. CLAIR ADAMS ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 3. TO A FRIEND UNSUCCESSFUL IN LOVE by MARK AKENSIDE SHELLEY'S DEATH by ALFRED AUSTIN SOLILOQUIES OF A SMALL-TOWN TAXI-DRIVER: ON THE EMOTIONS by EDGAR BARRATT |
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