Shall (without hope of rising) buryed lye,
Becomes the fruitfull Wombe, where Plenty breeds.
There, will be Corne, where nought but Mire appeares;
The Durty Seed, will forme a greenish blade;
The Blade, will rise to Stemmes with fruitfull Eares;
Those Eares, will ripen, and be yellow made:
So, if in honest Hopes, thou persevere,
A Ioyfull Harvest will at last appeare.