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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358054" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Wheat</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Sowin' things an' growin' things, an' watchin' of 'em grow;<br>That's the game,' my father said, an' father ought to know.<br>'Settin' things an' gettin' things to grow for folks to eat:<br>That's the life,' my father said, 'that's very hard to beat.'<br>For my father was a farmer, as his father was before,<br>Just sowin' things an' growin' things in far-off days of yore,<br>In the far-off land of England, till my father found his feet<br>In the new land, in the true land, where he took to growin' wheat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wheat, Wheat, Wheat! Oh, the sound of it is sweet!<br> I've been praisin' it an' raisin' it in rain an' wind an' heat<br> Since the time I learned to toddle, till it's beatin' in my noddle,<br> Is the little song I'm singin' you of Wheat, Wheat, Wheat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Plantin' things —- an' grantin' things is goin' as they should,<br>An' the weather altogether is behavin' pretty good —-<br>Is a pleasure in a measure for a man that likes the game,<br>An' my father he would rather raise a crop than make a name.<br>For my father was a farmer, an' 'All fame,' he said, 'ain't reel;<br>An' the same it isn't fillin' when you're wantin' for a meal.'<br>So I'm followin' his footsteps, an' a-keepin' of my feet,<br>While I cater for the nation with my Wheat, Wheat, Wheat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wheat, Wheat, Wheat! When the poets all are beat<br> By the reason that the season for the verse crop is a cheat,<br> Then I comes up bright an' grinnin' with the knowledge that I'm winnin',<br> With the rhythm of my harvester an' Wheat, Wheat, Wheat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Readin' things an' heedin' things that clever fellers give,<br>An' ponderin' an' wonderin' why we was meant to live —- <br>Muddlin' through an' fuddlin' through philosophy an' such<br>Is a game I never took to, an' it doesn't matter much.<br>For my father was a farmer, as I might 'a' said before,<br>An' the sum of his philosophy was, 'Grow a little more.<br>For growin' things,' my father said, 'it makes life sort o' sweet<br>An' your conscience never swats you if your game is growin' wheat.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wheat, Wheat, Wheat! Oh, the people have to eat!<br> An' you're servin', an' deservin' of a velvet-cushion seat<br> In the cocky-farmers' heaven when you come to throw a seven;<br> An' your password at the portal will be, 'Wheat, Wheat, Wheat.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now, the preacher an' the teacher have a callin' that is high<br>While they're spoutin' to the doubtin' of the happy by an' by;<br>But I'm sayin' that the prayin' it is better for their souls<br>When they've plenty wheat inside 'em in the shape of penny rolls.<br>For my father was a farmer, an' he used to sit an' grieve<br>When he thought about the apple that old Adam got from Eve.<br>It was foolin' with an orchard where the serpent got 'em beat,<br>An' they might 'a' kept the homestead if they'd simply stuck to wheat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wheat, Wheat, Wheat! If you're seekin' to defeat<br> Care an' worry in the hurry of the crowded city street,<br> Leave the hustle all behind you; come an' let contentment find you<br> In a cosy little cabin lyin' snug among the wheat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the city, more's the pity, thousands live an' thousands die<br>Never carin', never sparin' pains that fruits may multiply;<br>Breathin', livin', never givin'; greedy but to have an' take,<br>Dyin' with no day behind 'em lived for fellow-mortals' sake.<br>Now my father was a farmer, an' he used to sit and laugh<br>At the 'fools o' life,' he called 'em, livin' on the other half.<br>Dyin' lonely, missin' only that one joy that makes life sweet —- <br>Just the joy of useful labour, such as comes of growin' wheat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wheat, Wheat, Wheat! Let the foolish scheme an' cheat;<br> But I'd rather, like my father, when viv span o' life's complete,<br> Feel I'd lived by helpid others; earned the right to call 'em brothers<br> Who had gained while I was gainin' from God's earth His gift of wheat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the settin' sun is gettin' low above the western hills,<br>When the creepin' shadows deepen, and a peace the whole land fills,<br>Then I often sort o' soften with a feelin' like content,<br>An' I feel like thankin' Heaven for a day in labour spent.<br>For my father was a farmer, an' he used to sit an' smile,<br>Realizin' he was wealthy in what makes a life worth while.<br>Smilin', he has told me often, 'After all the toil an' heat,<br>Lad, he's paid in more than silver who has grown one field of wheat.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Wheat, Wheat, Wheat! When it comes my turn to meet<br> Death the Reaper, an' the Keeper of the Judgment Book I greet,<br> Then I'll face 'em sort o' calmer with the solace of the farmer<br> That he's fed a million brothers with his Wheat, Wheat, Wheat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=358054" data-title="Wheat de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="'Sowin' things an' growin' things, an' watchin' of 'em grow;
That's the game,' my father said, an' father ought to know.
'Settin' things an' gettin' things to grow for folks to eat:
That's the life,' my father said, 'that's very hard to beat.'
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