Poetry of Kansas

A Farmer's Son.

The west wind blows through ripened wheat
Swishing, swishing, swishing.
I pad down the road with bare, brown feet
Wishing, wishing, wishing
That the golden heads were a vast gold fleet
Sailing, sailing, sailing
To the place where the earth and the sky-line meet
Paling, paling, paling.
 
'Tis harvest time and the white hot sun
Boiling, boiling, boiling
Scorches the faces of men sweat-run
Toiling, toiling, toiling.
In my jug is cool drink; for their work must be done
Teeming, teeming, teeming,
There's no time to be spent by a farmer's son
Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming.

__Isobel Doerr

Contemporary Kansas Poetry
Helen Rhoda Hoopes
page 49
(Kansas City: Joseph D. Havens Company. 1927)

 
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May 8, 2003 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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