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171
WINTER WHEAT.
As by some leafless hedge or rustic stileBetwixt bare fields I wander, lo, the scene
Suddenly flushes with an emerald sheen,
Caught from the Winter wheat; a cheery smile
Permitted this dark season to beguile
With hope of radiant autumn-hours serene:
As if December wreathed his brow with green,
And whispered through his snows, “A little while.”
So in Earth's dreariest Winter-time was seen
The new-born lustre of our “Corn of wheat;”
An Infant smile, oh, how divinely sweet;
Blessing the fields those favoured hills between:
And that fair gleam still speaks to Faith's dim eyes
Of Harvest-treasure in the peaceful skies.
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