Rice Poem by Lev Brekhman
Rice
The pleasantest feeling of care
You get from the growing rice.
As fight with the life is not fair,
To see rice the winner is nice.
Alas, it will grow and ripen,
And feed our 'maddening crowds'.
So more we'll be, avidly driven,
Downward from serenity's clouds.
Monday, November 3, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: irony
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7/29/2025 4:48:44 PM # 1.0.0
