Dead Cow Farm

An ancient saga tells us how
In the beginning the First Cow
(For nothing living yet had birth
But Elemental Cow on earth)
Began to lick cold stones and mud:
Under her warm tongue flesh and blood
Blossomed, a miracle to believe:
And so was Adam born, and Eve.
Here now is chaos once again,
Primeval mud, cold stones and rain.
Here flesh decays and blood drips red,
And the Cow's dead, the old Cow's dead.

Robert von Ranke Graves

Robert von Ranke Graves was a British poet, historical novelist, critic, and classicist. His father was Alfred Perceval Graves, a distinguished Irish poet and figure in the Gaelic revival. Known for his war poetry, love poems, and scholarly works, he created a lasting literary legacy, including his interpretations of the Greek myths. Graves was also a soldier in World War I, an experience that profoundly influenced his writing.

Robert von Ranke Graves

In The Wilderness

Robert von Ranke Graves, Simple Poetry

Lost Love

Robert von Ranke Graves, Simple Poetry

Hawk And Buckle.

Robert von Ranke Graves, Simple Poetry

Thunder At Night.

Robert von Ranke Graves, Simple Poetry

English

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The Cow.

("Devant la blanche ferme.")

[XV., May, 1837.]


Before the farm where, o'er the porch, festoon
Wild creepers red, and gaffer sits at noon,
Whilst strutting fowl display their varied crests,
And the old watchdog slumberously rests,
They half-attentive to the clarion of their king,
Resplendent in the sunshine op'ning wing -
There stood a cow, with neck-bell jingling light,
Superb, enormous, dappled red and white -
Soft, gentle, patient as a hind unto its young,
Letting the children swarm until they hung
Around her, under - rustics with their teeth
Whiter than marble their ripe lips beneath,
And bushy hair fresh and more brown
Than mossy walls at old gates of a town,
Calling to one another with loud cries
For younger imps to be in at ...

Victor-Marie Hugo

The Cow In Apple-Time

Something inspires the only cow of late
To make no more of a wall than an open gate,
And think no more of wall-builders than fools.
Her face is flecked with pomace and she drools
A cider syrup. Having tasted fruit,
She scorns a pasture withering to the root.
She runs from tree to tree where lie and sweeten.
The windfalls spiked with stubble and worm-eaten.
She leaves them bitten when she has to fly.
She bellows on a knoll against the sky.
Her udder shrivels and the milk goes dry.

Robert Lee Frost

Quest Of The Purple Cow, The

He girded on his shining sword,
    He clad him in his suit of mail,
He gave his friends the parting word,
    With high resolve his face was pale.
They said, "You've kissed the Papal Toe,
    To great Moguls you've made your bow,
Why will you thus world-wandering go?"
    "I never saw a purple cow!"

"I never saw a purple cow!
    Oh, hinder not my wild emprise,
Let me depart! For even now
    Perhaps, before some yokel's eyes
The purpling creature dashes by,
    Bending its noble, horned brow.
They see its glowing charms, but I,
    I never saw a purple cow!"

"But other cows there be," they said,
    "Both cows of high and low degree,
Suffolk and Devon, brown, black, red,
    The Ayrshire and the Alderney.
Content yourself with...

Hilda Johnson

Cain And Abel

Cain and Abel were brothers born.
(Koop-la! Come along, cows!)
One raised cattle and one raised corn.
(Koop-la! Come along! Co-hoe!)

And Cain he farmed by the river-side,
So he did not care how much it dried.

For he banked, and he sluiced, and he ditched and he led
(And the Corn don't care for the Horn),
A-half Euphrates out of her bed
To water his dam' Corn!

But Abel herded out on the plains
Where you have to go by the dams and rains.

It happened, after a three-year drought,
The wells, and the springs, and the dams gave out.

The Herd-bulls came to Cain's new house
(They wanted water so!, )
With the hot red Sun between their brows,
Sayin' "Give us water for our pore cows!"
But Cain he told 'em, "No!"

The Cows ...

Rudyard

Cows

    There was an old man who said, "How
    Shall I flee from this horrible cow?
    I will sit on this stile
    And continue to smile,
    Which may soften the heart of that cow."

Unknown

Windmills And Stone Stables.

        Cows suffered in the days of old
        For want of water and from cold,
        Now of good water they have fill
        For it is pumped by the windmill.

        No matter how well cows were fed
        They suffered cold in their board shed,
        But good stone walls now them enfold,
        And they are warm and safe from cold.

        Now they do enjoy their fodder,
        And repay with their full udder,
        If bran slops you on cow bestow
        Of milk it will increase the flow.

        And in your efforts do not halt
        But let them daily lick the salt,
        And never let the dogs them chase,
        But let them walk at their quiet pace.

James McIntyre