Ernest G Moll
They come each morning to the gate,
are milked and wander off to feed;
six cows, a calf and in the lead
a brindled bull, old, fat sedate.
And every evening they are back,
loafing along the quarter-mile
of dusty lane in single file,
the old bull trailing up the track.
I would not load with thought that brings
meanings deep-conjured in the mind
this quiet scene-but here I find
the rhythm of eternal things.
And envy him who takes his pail
jingling to met them at the gate;
sun-up, sun-down, that constant date
which neither he nor they will fail.
I envy him whose life allows
him the cool blessedness; to stand
and simply watch the coming and
later the going of the cows.
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Comments about this poem (Farm Scene by Ernest G Moll )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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