The sun is sinking on the sacred lands
Wherein the grain ungarnered beckoning stands.
Who loses never finds, nor can, nor may,
The common, human glory of the day.
Close, let us enter, tear-blind as we must;
Reapers, not gleaners of a solemn trust.
(Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward)
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Based on Topics: Trust PoemsBased on Keywords: gleaners, ungarnered, tear-blind