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MUMMY WHEAT.LAID close to Death, these many thousand years, In this small seed Life hid herself and smiled;So well she hid, Death was at least beguiled, Set free the grain-and lo! the sevenfold ears!Warmed by the sun, wooed by the wind's soft word, Under blue canopy they hold their state: For this, ah, was it not worth while to waitThrough all the centuries of hope deferred?What could they know who laid the seed with DeathOf this Divine fruition fixed and planned?Love-since Life parts us-lend my hand your handAnd look with me into the eyes of faith.For here between your hand and mine there liesA little seed we trust to Death to keepThrough unimagined centuries of sleepUntil the day when Life shall bid it rise.Our harvest waits us. Who knows where or how, What worlds away, wrapped in what coil of pain?But Life shall bid us pluck gold sevenfold grainGrown from the love she bids us bury

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