A plant I saw with withered leaf
Whose life drought left in waste
Had bowed its weakened stalk in grief,
Could rain no longer taste
Then, slow, as in degreed consent,
It let a kernel fall
Releasing all the life it lent
From when it still stood tall
“My God, my God,” it seemed to say
“Why thou forsakest me?”
Then as in genuflection lay
It broke to be set free
Then all of nature seemed to mourn,
The sky itself to cry,
The rain came down, but life was born,
From ground that once sat dry
The little kernel’s sprouts were seen
Its buds still tender thus
For from the death of Life we glean
New life that grows in us.
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