To walls of corn, now sere and brown.
"What do they hold—these walls of corn,
Whose banners toss in the breeze of morn?
"He who questions may soon be told—
A great State's wealth these walls enfold.
"No sentinels guard these walls of corn,
Never is sounded the warder's horn;
"Yet the pillars are hung with gleaming gold,
Left all unbarred, though thieves are bold.
"Clothes and food for the toiling poor;