Sunday, February 2, 2014

Where The Green Olives Lie

O Master of the fields 
Walk past thy vineyard free
Thy steps emblazoning thy path
Of the vineyard where the green olives lie

O Age of all fruits
and Age of all trees
I beset thy ripened wine
I once was enraptured by thy trees

Grown into  leaves of green
I grudge thee thy olives bright and free
Awaiting greedy hands that lean
to pick thee from thy safe sanctuary

O Master of the fields be I
My task once over by my time
I lay those vineyards for all the world to see
And suckle on those fruits divine.

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