Verse > Anthologies > T. H. Ward, ed. > The English Poets > Vol. V. Browning to Rupert Brooke
Thomas Humphry Ward, ed.  The English Poets.  1880–1918.
Vol. V. Browning to Rupert Brooke
The Plough
By Richard Henry Hengist Horne (1802–1884)
ABOVE 1 yon sombre swell of land
  Thou see’st the dawn’s grave orange hue,
With one pale streak like yellow sand,
  And over that a vein of blue.
The air is cold above the woods;        5
  All silent is the earth and sky,
Except with his own lonely moods
  The blackbird holds a colloquy.
Over the broad hill creeps a beam,
  Like hope that gilds a good man’s brow;        10
And now ascends the nostril-stream
  Of stalwart horses come to plough.
Ye rigid Ploughman, bear in mind
  Your labour is for future hours:
Advance—spare not—nor look behind—        15
  Plough deep and straight with all your powers.
Note 1. Published only in the 1875 reprint of Cosmo de’ Medici. [back]

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