THE GOOD OF IT.
115
Then growing, growing, tall, brave, and strong:
With the voice of new harvests in its song;
While in fond scorn
The lark out-carols the whispering corn.
With the voice of new harvests in its song;
While in fond scorn
The lark out-carols the whispering corn.
A strange, sweet path, formed day by day,
How, when, and wherefore, we cannot say,
No more than of our life-paths we know,
Whither they lead us, why we go;
Or whether our eyes shall ever see
The wheat in the ear or the fruit on the tree;
Yet, who 's forlorn?—
He who watered the furrows can ripen the corn.
How, when, and wherefore, we cannot say,
No more than of our life-paths we know,
Whither they lead us, why we go;
Or whether our eyes shall ever see
The wheat in the ear or the fruit on the tree;
Yet, who 's forlorn?—
He who watered the furrows can ripen the corn.
THE GOOD OF IT.