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Call
us at 585-346-3596
or send us an e-mail if you'd
like to order either or both of Tom's books!
"Cicero
Farm's Hometown Livonia"
can also be ordered online by
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| The
Farmer And The Rose |
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"A
lonely young farmer early one spring
was toiling in the field, hard a-plowing
All his life he labored under the hot sun,
Only at sunset was the day's work done.
On he worked all through the day
till the edge of the field he finally came.
There amongst the weeds and daisies
and climbing ivy and mosses lazy
he found upon a fence post old
a deep red vision of love untold.
For on the weed hedgerow grows
A perfect, lovely, wild red rose.
He kneeled down, tears in his eyes
and lifted his face to the sky,
"At last," he cried, "I've found true love."
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But
from the woods he heard the call of the mourning dove
He reached out with a dirty work-worn hand
But he stopped. "No," he said, "I shouldn't, I mustn't,
I can't."
"Who am I to touch such living prose
As this perfect, lovely, wild red rose.
My hands are ungentle, I'm hardly of worth
I'm a poor, young farmer, a tiller of earth."
Each day he wandered into his fields to watch the flower grow,
and never once did the blossom fade or the passing of the seasons
show.
The rose's sweet scent never failed
While the farmer grew old, weak and frail
And when came that day that Fate had chose
They buried him under that perfect, lovely, wild red rose."
Author
Unknown
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