THE BROKEN FIELD
by: Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)
- Y soul is a dark ploughed field
- In the cold rain;
- My soul is a broken field
- Ploughed by pain.
-
- Where windy grass and flowers
- Were growing,
- The field lies broken now
- For another sowing.
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- Great Sower, when you tread
- My field again,
- Scatter the furrows there
- With better grain.
"The Broken Field" is
reprinted from Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1916. Ed.
William Stanley Braithwaite. New York: Laurence J. Gomme, 1916. |
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POEMS BY SARA TEASDALE |
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