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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.
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