The Broken Field
My soul is a dark ploughed field
       &nbsp   In the cold rain;
My soul is a broken field
       &nbsp   Ploughed by pain.

Where grass and bending flowers
       &nbsp   Were growing,
The field lies broken now
       &nbsp   For another sowing.

Great Sower when you tread
       &nbsp   My field again,
Scatter the furrows there
       &nbsp   With better grain.