The Furrow Poem by Cicely Fox Smith

An old horse to the furrow - an old man to the plough -
For the young horse and the young lad, they're needed yonder now -

The horse, so young and mettled he scarce had known the rein,
That shook his feathered fetlocks and tossed his streaming mane -

The lad that used to drive him, so strong and straight and tall,
That dressed him fine with ribbons and groomed him in the stall.

Ah, there as here, old Captain, we know, both I and you,
He'll drive a straight furrow as he always used to do!

The clods before the ploughshare fall heavily apart,
But never a clod among them so heavy as my heart -

To smell the clean earth breaking and the kind country smells,
And think o' the stink and reek there, and the bursting o' the shells.

An old horse to the furrow - an old man to the plough -
And the young horse and the young lad . . . how fare they yonder now?