Thou hearest not, amid thy mirth,
Nor carest though thy children die,
And senseless in thy bosom lie,
Cold and unthought of, cruel Earth!
V.
And yet, O Earth! a little seed,
Dropt by man’s hand within thy heart,
Thou makest great, and dost impart
To him again for every need!
VI.
O Earth! if seed that man lets fall
Into thy heart, thou givest thus
Back thirty, sixty-fold to us,
Thou art not cruel, after all!
VII.
Nor dost thou, Earth, thy children crave;
’Tis God that sows them as His seed,
And by and bye they shall be freed,
As beauteous flowers for him who gave.
VIII.
O gay, Spring Earth of God’s and ours,—
Nay, rather, thou and we are His,
And sun and stars and all that is,—
We bid thee hail with birds and flowers!