Sitting in a porchway cool,
Sunlight, I see, dying fast,
Twilight hastens on to rule.
Working hours have well-nigh past.
Shadows run across the lands:
But a sower lingers still,
Old, in rags, he patient stands.
Looking on, I feel a thrill.
Black and high, his silhouette
Dominates the furrows deep!
Now to sow the task is set.
Soon shall come a time to reap.
Marches he along the plain
To and fro, and scatters wide
From his hands the precious grain;
Muse I, as I see him stride.
Darkness deepens. Fades the light.
Now his gestures to mine eyes
Are august; and strange, - his height
Seems to touch the starry skies
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Comments about this poem (The Sower by Toru Dutt )
- ANGER, ging taping
- Draw me in your heart, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
- The thirst is a thorn., Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Simple toys, hasmukh amathalal
- Acquaintance across the gender, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- Begining of my love, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
- What is all truth, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
- Let all people, hasmukh amathalal
- To be successful…, Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
- This parts all without you, Nehemiah Theophylus Haokip
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