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The Mustard Seed
Plant the small seed, the mustard grain within,And it shall spread its limbs from shore to shore;
But first it must in smallest root begin,
And seem to yield too little for thy store;
But thou hast sparing sown, it cannot grow
When thou dost not thy field in order keep;
Wilt thou no rain or sun on it bestow,
And think a plenteous harvest thou shalt reap?
Not so the earth rewards the farmer's toil;
Not so the heart will yield its rich increase;
Wouldst thou in time partake the wine and oil,
Wouldst thou within thee find the promised peace,
Sow daily, sow within the precious seed,
And thou shalt find rich crops in time of need.
Poem No. 398; c. January 1839
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |