Night Sowing
By David Campbell
O gentle, gentle land
Where the green ear shall grow,
Now you are edged with light:
The moon has crisped the fallow,
The furrows run with night.
This is the season’s hour:
While couples are in bed,
I sow the paddocks late,
Scatter like sparks the seed
And see the dark ignite.
O gentle land, I sow
The heart’s living grain.
Stars draw their harrows over,
Dews send their melting rain:
I meet you as a lover.
Copyright © by the owner.
