BURY this old Illinois farmer with respect.
He slept the Illinois nights of his life after days of work in Illinois cornfields.
Now he goes on a long sleep.
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I asked that this poem be read at my Dad's funeral. He was born and raised on an Illinois farm, and farmed most of his life not far from that place. And, he did have a red beard in the winters to help warm his face as he worked outside in the bitter prairie cold.
very pathetic, unnoticed end of a humble farmer evokes a bereaved response from nature....apt devices masterfully applied in the poem spouts the pathos from within the sad poem.
I like it but is it a poem about illinois or a farmer......