I sink my plow in the bare brown earth
With the guide-rope round my hand;
The rich loam ripples behind the share
Like a dark wave on a strand.
My sweating horse strains straight ahead
While the trace-chains fret his side;
And sightless slugs of the under dark
From the shining plowshare slide.
A gray mouse runs from his trampled nest,
A lark sings in the sky,
While sun and wind in the furrow meet
And there like lovers lie.
A man, a horse, and a plow are we,
Far from the grinding din;
Opening the womb of Mother Earth
That the seed may enter in.