The Prisoner of Love By F. W. Orde Ward (F. Harald Wiliams) |
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September 25
MY LITTLE PATCH |
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The Prisoner of Love | ||
308
September 25 MY LITTLE PATCH
“The Lord God took the man, and put him into the garden . . .
to dress it and to keep it.”—Gen. ii. 15.
I have a little patch to keep,
I have a little hoe,
And up and down while others sleep
I toil along the row;
What matter if my tiny plot
Looks mean and others love it not,
If it is better so?
I have a little hoe,
And up and down while others sleep
I toil along the row;
What matter if my tiny plot
Looks mean and others love it not,
If it is better so?
I'm hoeing without wages,
I'm hoeing day and night,
And as through endless ages
I'm hoeing till the light.
I'm hoeing day and night,
And as through endless ages
I'm hoeing till the light.
The thorns are very sharp and stand
Around with bristling spears,
The hoe grows heavy in my hand
Beneath the breath of fears;
And though my labour does not match
My rivals', yet I love my patch
And water it with tears.
Around with bristling spears,
The hoe grows heavy in my hand
Beneath the breath of fears;
And though my labour does not match
My rivals', yet I love my patch
And water it with tears.
It's weary work the hoeing
And learning as at school,
But yet I wait the growing—
I am the Maker's tool.
And learning as at school,
But yet I wait the growing—
I am the Maker's tool.
The Prisoner of Love | ||