SEED-TIME. 



In the wakening spring-time speeding, 

 What a priest in power is he I 



Striding forth the broad earth seeding, 

 That her children filled may be." 



T 



'HE labourer has ceased 

 from the busy labour 

 of the day. He has supped 

 his evening meal, and from 

 his pocket draws forth that 

 soothing companion that 

 never fails him the pipe. 

 He moves as if by instinct 

 towards his garden. He 

 knows the recent rain has 

 made his heavy land too wet for digging, but 

 he must try it. It won't do. He is simply 

 making plaster of it, and he knows it. Seeds 

 28 



