RED gold of pools,
Sunset furrows six o'clock,
And the farmer done in the fields
And the cows in the barns with bulging udders.
Take the cows and the farmer,
Take the barns and bulging udders.
Leave the red gold of pools
And sunset furrows six o'clock.
The farmer's wife is singing.
The farmer's boy is whistling.
I wash my hands in red gold of pools.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Harvest Sunset by Carl Sandburg )
Did you read them?
- One Mode of Mortal Devotion, William Park
- Glow worm, Mark Heathcote
- FOOT STEPS, Harold R Hunt Sr
- The Highest Human Virtue Surprisingly Is.., Mr. Nobody
- Time Marches on, Harold R Hunt Sr
- Our First Day, Harold R Hunt Sr
- Another Day, Harold R Hunt Sr
- Who Am I?, Harold R Hunt Sr
- A letter to you, Harold R Hunt Sr
- What are moms made of?, Harold R Hunt Sr
Poem of the Day
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Heather Burns
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow