The sun is sinking on the sacred lands
Wherein the grain ungarnered beckoning stands.
Who loses never finds, nor can, nor may,
The common, human glory of the day.
Close, let us enter, tear-blind as we must;
Reapers, not gleaners of a solemn trust.
Poetósfera › La Biblioteca › Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward
Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward · Modernismo
inglés
The sun is sinking on the sacred lands
Wherein the grain ungarnered beckoning stands.
Who loses never finds, nor can, nor may,
The common, human glory of the day.
Close, let us enter, tear-blind as we must;
Reapers, not gleaners of a solemn trust.
ws-en-a-new-friend--elizabeth-stuart-phelps-ward-8fb7ddLas obras de dominio público se reproducen íntegras, con atribución y en la ortografía de su impreso. No pedimos datos personales para avisar de una errata; para otra cosa, escríbenos desde Sobre la casa.