heart's desire, turned aside from fulfilment, 

 shall come music and sweetness far beyond 

 love. 



Come now to the fallow, first upturned last 

 fall. It had lain three years in clover. See 

 the big, yellow -white roots of it standing 

 topsy-turvy all over it. So the great plough 

 thrust and left them, often with but the 

 tiniest hold. Never a one, though, but has 

 made the best of it has kept life spite of 

 wind and snow now sends up its sprays of 

 round, gray-hearted leaves. How fresh and 

 cheery they look, all dim with the fine 

 spring dew. Truly it is pitiful that the big 

 share needs must crush and overwhelm the 

 brave green buds so gallantly upthrust. 

 Lie soft upon them, gentle Earth ! You 

 must live by such doing, such undoing, for 

 you give out a fragrance finer than all the 

 flowers. 



Drinking it in long draughts, the scent of 

 the lowland fades quite out of memory. 

 What is all its light blackness beside this 

 brown earth so mellow, so alive to the foot 

 smelling to heaven of summer and heavy 

 harvest. The plough-beasts even snuff it 

 gratefully. They draw almost at the trot, 

 round corners without lagging, as though 

 they knew what it all meant bursting cribs, 



