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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1337147
Just a poem dedicated to farmers. Please Comment.
The Farmer

At the break of dawn his stroke fell
Upon the ground that provides well
His blade dug deep and wounded the earth
For his strength was bound on his children’s mirth

Countless was his strokes for an hour’s pass
For countless mouths will come to eat
Pedantic was the gardener for his work was just
For an hour’s work was season’s feast
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