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And we sigh for the vanished spring-time 
Of which we took no heed. 
Oh, the harvest we might gather, 
Did we only sow the seed! 
Had we sown the seeds of virtue, 
Of holy love and truth, 
Of charity and kindness, 
In the spring-time of our youth; 
In the autumn we’d have gathered 
A harvest rich and rare — 
A harvest of fragrant flowers 
Been blooming for us there. 
We’d have never cause to murmur 
At the hardness of our lot; 
Our lives full of contentment— 
In palace or in cot— 
Hid we improve the golden spring-time, 
Root out each noxious weed — 
What a bountiful harvest waits us. 
Do we only sow the seed! 
—Clara M. Howard. 
