Poem 405 – Hasten Ploughboy

Hasten ploughboy, let me burn
’til the end of time, or ’til you turn
The end of the row and start to yearn
To drive the homeward furrow.

Hasten, ploughboy, the sun’s still high,
There’s no time for sweat in’, no time to sigh,
Though humans might, the plough can’t lie,
As soil meets the steel’s might.

Hasten, ploughboy, while you die,
You’ll not be remembered though you drive
The steel through the soil and wonder why
The homeward row’s so long.


Dear readers,

I wrote this after seeing WarHorse. It is a magnificent show, and I encourage all of you to see it – an extremely powerful piece. I also suggest you go on one of the ‘relaxed’ performances – audiences that truly react to the work, rather than passively sit and enjoy ‘art’.

Kind regards,

The Hapless Neo-Romantic


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