Eleanor Farjeon (Элинор Фарджон)
Sonnets. 11. A few of us who faltered as we fared
A few of us who faltered as we fared Love has returned for. Still he leads us on, But where we walk the furrows are prepared And sown and fruitful, and the sowers are gone. O love, O love, the way too easy lies! Life on the rough horizon yonder goes, And when I call he will not turn his eyes, But with my brothers sows, and reaps, and sows. Life without love, O bitter, bitterest birth! Love without life still leaves us in our need. Ah, love, give up to me my patch of earth, My pinch of seed! Hast neither earth nor seed? Then whence these visions of thy presence born, These shining visions of flowers and fruit and corn?
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