Farmers poems from famous poets and best beautiful poems to feel good. Best Farmers poems ever written. Read all poems about Farmers.
Listen, my children, and you shall hear
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in 'Seventy-five;
Hardly a man is now alive
The green village, the colored city, the ever familiar locality
Each path, tree, house, turn, each native I have left behind
But creepers, hedges have entangled with my leg and hand
The green crops fields, green hills, fruit trees, call me back,
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
By the rude bridge that arched the flood,
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,
Here once the embattled farmers stood
And fired the shot heard round the world.
WHY! who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Three jolly Farmers
Once bet a pound
Each dance the others would
Off the ground.
AS I sat alone, by blue Ontario's shore,
As I mused of these mighty days, and of peace return'd, and the dead
that return no more,
from Memories of President Lincoln
Freezing dusk is closing
Like a slow trap of steel
On trees and roads and hills and all
That can no longer feel.
Winds are gusting through the forest of oak birch and pine. Autumn is near the animals are busy preparing for the season. Change is coming the harvest mice, the squirrels are all darting around the place. Farmers are in the fields checking the crop. The air is crisp and sharp and the sun glows on the distant horizon.
Don't say the government has no business
to do business with the farmers' produce.
You send satellites of other nations
from our country's launching pads for pelf.
Our Farmers are on the streets, tormenting in pain
It's a Revolt, poor fighting for their Rights, against the Elite
Rich want to hoard grains in their Godowns, ensure rich gain
We must all stand up against this injustice, need not be polite
For centuries, farmers have fed us, but,
Not for a moment, we think about them!
The secret of our fine, fit, robust living?
How food is readily made available to us!
What a marvelous country is my India,
how hardworking is not my nation,
everywhere are our people, rushing to work
morning, evening and even on night shifts;
Poets, farmers and film directors do selfless service to humanity;
Especially sans the nonstop service of poets and farmers in the world,
There is no life for humankind in the modern world of civilization;
They are as important as human culture that shows way to live in uncertain life!
Until my eyes see anything decipherable
There was only golden color
Spread across the horizon,
Smell like the evening sun
Pastoral Love In The Heroic Couplet
December 13, 2020
No crop is more blessed
than the one a farmer sows and tills,
working in his field from dawn to dusk,
digging and cultivating every yield
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