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My Three Sonnets Plus Two (The Sower)

The seeds in the Sower’s hand,
With time makes a reaper of him.
Better still the fallowed land,
And the barn may not contain.

I tell of an age-long Farmer,
The first to till the red soil.
A garden fair He made, by the pool,
The pool coolly behind the mansion.
He made, by the garden’s deep waters,

A nursery, nursed amidst toils.
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My Three Sonnets Plus Two (The Sower)
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: endurance
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