Sowing Song

Sun-flash on the grain As it leaps from the sower's hand, Quick with desire to gain New life from the land.

Seams, furrows, and scars On the face of our Mother Earth, For the gods set sorrow and tears At the gates of birth.

Swift flight of the seed, Like a bird through the sun-bright air, To rot in the ground, or breed In the Dread One's care.

Broken heart of soil, Taking all to its patient breast, With never a cease from toil Or a dream of rest.

Wheat-grains grow to wheat, And the seed of a tare to tare. Who knows if Man's soul will meet Man's body to wear?

Great Ram! grant me life From the grain of a golden deed; Sink not my soul in the strife To wake as a weed.

Seek thy grave, O grain! Some day I will seek mine too, To rise from the level plain, The old in the new.

III.

HARVEST SONG.

Scorching sun that shrivels and sears, Withering wind in the rustling ears, Rattle of death as the dry stalks fall, Promise of life in the seed for all. Flash of the sickles, sweat of the brows, Rest in the noon, beneath sheltering boughs. Gather and reap, Death is but sleep. Golden grain ripens though lovers are dead; Lips long for kisses, but mouths must have bread.

Blazing brass of the sky at noon, Broad, bright face of the harvest moon; Slow stars wheeling to meet the morn, Toilers asleep on the sheaves of corn; Stealthy snake with the lifted crest, Poisoned prick in a tired breast. Gather and bind, Fate is but blind. Golden grain ripens though dear ones may weep; Love longs for gladness, but toil must have sleep.

Kine knee-deep in the glistening straw; Flocks of birds round the threshing-floor; Clouds of chaff from the winnowing-tray, Gleaming gold as they drift away; Wreath of smoke from the funeral pyre, End of love and its vain desire! Gather and sheave, Why should we grieve? Death finds new life in the Great Mother's breast, Rest turns to labour, and labour to rest.

IV.