And I should say the way for us to show
The gratitude that we most surely owe
To Nature and to Nature‘s God for these
Rich gifts,—that both the eye and palate please,
Is to replant our garden every year,
And so bring forth anew the harvest cheer.
Time.
That‘s right, sir. I agree. As all men know,
You cannot harvest what you do not sow.
And your appreciation is well shown
In each successive harvest you have grown.
Son.
And yet excuse me,—Time,—I‘m young, you know,
But I am not content merely to grow
A crop or harvest for myself,—nor heed
The greater question of the country‘s need.
And other countries, luo. Sir, I maintain
We should conserve our foodstuffs and our grain,
A Food Administrator there should be
Marked by wise judgment and efficiency.
By business methods such as these, I‘ll say,
We‘d show our gratitude in proper way.
Ceres.
Young man, you‘re in the right, it seems to me;
With all you‘ve said I heartily agree.
I‘d gladly see the fields of golden grain
Conserved with care for mankind‘s good and gain.
Ceres and Son (sing; air, “A Life on the Ocean Wave”).
See the golden wheatfields wave,
And the scarlet poppies blow;
‘Tis the sun and rain that gave
Such glory here below.
The cornfields green and fair,
The buckwheat and the rye,
Thrive in the shimmering air,
‘Neath the blue midsummer sky.
