Sowing And Reaping
By Adelaide Anne Procter
Sow with a generous hand;
Pause not for toil and pain;
Weary not through the heat of summer,
Weary not through the cold spring rain;
But wait till the autumn comes
For the sheaves of golden grain.
Scatter the seed, and fear not,
A table will be spread;
What matter if you are too weary
To eat your hard-earned bread;
Sow, while the earth is broken,
For the hungry must be fed.
Sow;—while the seeds are lying
In the warm earth’s bosom deep,
And your warm tears fall upon it—
They will stir in their quiet sleep,
And the green blades rise the quicker,
Perchance, for the tears you weep.
Then sow;—for the hours are fleeting,
And the seed must fall to-day;
And care not what hand shall reap it,
Or if you shall have passed away
Before the waving cornfields
Shall gladden the sunny day.
Sow;—and look onward, upward,
Where the starry light appears,—
Where, in spite of the coward’s doubting,
Or your own heart’s trembling fears,
You shall reap in joy the harvest
You have sown to-day in tears.