OCR Text |
Show THE SONG OF THE WHEAT. H By C. L. Marsh, In Smart Sot. H I draw my birth rrom the Mother Earth, H Tho Matrix of all that lives; H Tho sun Is my sire, his passionnto lire H Tho life to her offspring: gives; H Ho woos hor and warms hor In lusty way, H Hut he trmpcrs the licat of Ills dusty day H To quicken the seed In hor mighty breast. H Tiien tho grasses grow and 'tho wild flowers blow, H And tho world begins to sing; H nut I am the heir to tills royalty ralr, H For I am or llfo tho King. B From tho troplo glow to tlio lands or snow, B Tho wliolo world waits for mo; H No wliool can turn, no thought can burn, M Till tho givor of llfo they soo. P No whit I roulc or tlio claims or birth, H No wonlth is my standard of greater worth; fl To tho rnvorod fow, and tho struggling mass, M I am "Necessity," scornor or "Class," For whoro is tlio raco that will calmly race M Tho loss or tlio liro I bring? M And man is wild whon tho moans or his child M In his oars rorover ring. fl Whon "Dread" is tho cry, lot the rich man hie, M To scatter tho rood that his wealth can buy, jH Or bowaro or tho hunger that will not die, M I'or I am or llfo the King. H And woo to tho fool who fancies to rule, H My rroedom to come and go! Hf No wealth is so great as, tlio laws of rato, jH And I bury him 'noath my snow. H Porchanco he is cnllod "Tho King or tho Wheat," H Tor a soason or sovereignty short and sweet, H Hut from all tlio oarth with pinions licet H I lly, on his Insolent head to boat. H ; No "King or tho Whoat" is he, I trow, H , Hut the Wlieat is tho monarch that lays him low. H Ono bungler moro I add to my scare, H And again my song I sing: H No power can stay me, no trusts botray me, H ', For I am of life tho King. H |