The Sower

by Victor Hugo 1 Sitting in a porchway cool, Fades the ruddy sunlight fast, Twilight hastens on to rule— Working hours are wellnigh past 5 Shadows shoot across the lands; But one sower lingers still, Old, in rags, he patient stands,— Looking on, I feel a thrill. Black and high his silhouette 10 Dominates the furrows deep! Now to sow the task is set, Soon shall come a time to reap. Marches he along the plain, To and fro, and scatters wide 15 From his hands the precious grain; Moody, I, to see him stride. Darkness deepens. Gone the light. Now his gestures to mine eyes Are august; and strange—his height 20 Seems to touch the starry skies. ™ © Advanced Assessment Systems/LinkIt! Duplication is restricted to licensees only.

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