My mother read the poem to me when I was six years old, and she told me her mother read it to her when she was six, when the poem was only 8 years old, a recent work. Now the poem is 105 years old. It still has the power of striking imagery, still has the ability to make us consider the point of view; it’s still a moving poem.
After the last red sunset glimmer,
Black on the line of a low hill rise,
formed into moving shadows, I saw
A plowboy and two horses lined against the gray,
Plowing in the dusk the last furrow.
The turf had a gleam of brown,
And smell of soil was in the air,
And, cool and moist, a haze of April.
I shall remember you long,
Plowboy and horses against the sky in shadow.
I shall remember you and the picture
You made for me,
Turning the turf in the dusk
And haze of an April gloaming.