Edward Rowland Sill (Эдвард Роулэнд Силл)
Fertility
CLEAR water on smooth rock Could give no foot-hold for a single flower, Or slenderest shaft of grain: The stone must crumble under storm and rain— The forests crash beneath the whirlwind's power— And broken boughs from many a tempest-shock, And fallen leaves of many a wintry hour, Must mingle in the mould, Before the harvest whitens on the plain, Bearing an hundred-fold. Patience, O weary heart! Let all thy sparkling hours depart, And all thy hopes be withered with the frost, And every effort tempest-tost— So, when all life's green leaves Are fallen, and mouldered underneath the sod, Thou shalt go not too lightly to thy God, But heavy with full sheaves.
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