Sow with a generous hand;
Pause not for toil or pain;
Weary not through the heat of summer,
Weary not through the cold spring rain;
But wait till the autumn comes
For the sheaves of golden grain.
Sow, and look onward, upward,
Where the starry light appears;
Where, in spite of the cowards doubting,
Or your own heart's trembling fears,
You shall reap in joy the harvest
You have sown today in tears.
By A. A. Proctor.
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