Page:Thirty poems (IA thirtypoems00bryarich).pdf/75

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THE SONG OF THE SOWER.
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And raise thee from the dust, to hold Light whisperings with the winds of May,And fill thy spikes with living gold, From summer's yellow ray,Then, as thy garners give thee forth, On what glad errands shalt thou go,Wherever, o'er the waiting earth, Roads wind and rivers flow.The ancient East shall welcome theeTo mighty marts beyond the sea,And they who dwell where palm groves soundTo summer winds the whole year round,Shall watch, in gladness, from the shore,The sails that bring thy glistening store.
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