“I mourned, hands clenched, before that mound. For the piercing cold of grief had caught Me in the doleful dread and bound My heart, though reason solace sought. I longed for my pearl, locked in the ground, While fierce contentions… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
“Each grass from a lifeless grain is bred, Else to harvest no wheat were won: Always from good is good begun. So seemly a seed could not die in vain, That sprig nor spice there would be none Of that… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
