Be patient! O, be patient! Put your ear against the earth; Listen there how noiselessly the germ o’ the seed has birth— How noiselessly and gently it upheaves its little way, Till it parts the scarcely broken ground, and the blade stands up in day. Be patient! O, be patient!—though yet our hopes are green, The harvest fields of freedom shall be crowned with sunny sheen. Be ripening! be ripening—mature your silent way, Till the whole broad land is tongued with fire on freedom’s harvest day.
—Richard C. Trench.
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