 | The Stranger at the Gate |  |
VII
Windflowers herald the Maytide,
Rendering worth for worth;
Ragweeds gladden the wayside,
Biting the dugs of the Earth;
Rendering worth for worth;
Ragweeds gladden the wayside,
Biting the dugs of the Earth;
Violets, scattering glories,
Feed from the dewy gem:
But dreamers are fed by the living and dead—
And what is the gift from them?
Feed from the dewy gem:
But dreamers are fed by the living and dead—
And what is the gift from them?
| The Stranger at the Gate | |