AS A MAN SOWETH
AS A MAN SOWETH
Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe
We must not hope to be mowers,
And to gather the ripe gold ears,
Unless we have first been sowers,
And watered the furrows with tears.
It is not just as we take it,
This mystical world of ours,
Life’s field will yield as we make it,
A harvest of thorns or of flowers.
