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'Tis Saturday morn and all is bright
By nature's own endowing;
The sun is fiercely giving light,
And only me—
Plowing.
Across the river I hear the sound
Of a boatman slowly rowing;
I have no time to fool around,
Especially when I'm—
Hoeing.
And when the dinner hour has come,
And thoughts of work are fleeting,
I only hear the insects hum,
Because I'm busy—
Eating.
At night when all things are at rest,
Safe in Old Morpheus' keeping,
No troubles do my mind infest,
For I am soundly—
Sleeping.
This poem is in the public domain.
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Edwin Carty Ranck (1879 - 1957) was born in in Lexington, Kentucky. His father was a writer and newspaper editor. After attending Harvard, Edwin followed in his father's footsteps and became a journalist, writing at one point for the New York Times.
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paradea:
Love it!!!
Posted 04/30/2022 11:05 AM
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cork:
I used to garden and these words brought back memories.
Posted 04/30/2022 10:52 AM
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Sharon Waller Knutson:
There was something about the writing in this poem that attracted me and almost hypnotized me with the "Plowing, Hoeing, Eating, Sleeping" and I realized why. He is a fellow journalist and I am always drawn to poems by journalist/poets.
Posted 04/30/2022 09:54 AM
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Darrell Arnold:
This poem might be about a farmer's or gardener's day. I like it. Sweet, simple, elegant.
Posted 04/30/2022 08:28 AM
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