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.

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