Poem July 26, 1952 Issue

THE EVER-PRESENT HARVEST

Amelia S. Wadsworth

Why speak this way: four months to grow
Till ripened heads of grain will show?
Look up, discern the present field
Now white with Truth's unending yield.
Love's infant seeds, to sense obscured,
Bring healing harvests now matured.

Amelia S. Wadsworth

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The Letter and the Spirit of the Mosaic Decalogue
July 26, 1952
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