Sowing Seed
As my hand dropt a seed
In the dibbled mould
And my mind hurried onward
To picture the miracle
June should unfold,
On a sudden before me
Hanging its head,
With black petals
Rotting and tainted,
Stood a flower, dead;
As if all the world’s hope
Were rotting there,
A thing to weep for,
Ripe for burial,
Veined with despair.
Yet I cannot prevent
My ignorant heart
From trust that is deeper
Than fear can fathom
Or hope desert.
The small twy—bladed
Shoot will thrust
To brave all hazards.
The seed is sown
And in Earth I trust.
