Until Equity Is Here.

Until Equity Is Here.
597.4

In the rustle of the cornfields
And the plowman’s weary tread;
And the fingers of the tassels,
Raised beseechingly o’erhead,
In them all a thousand volces
Whisper in the list ning ear.
“Toll will ne’er possess its products
Until Equity is here.”

In the broad and waving wheatfields,
A million heads may bow:
And in sunlight gold may glitter,
Promised fruitage of the plow.
Still the passing breezes whisper
In the anxious list ning ear
“Toll’s just reward will linger
Until Equity is here.”

So with orchard’s blushing treasure,
And with meadow’s wealth of hays
And the lowing in the pastures,
And the garden’s rich array.
All proclaim the same sad warning.
Toli in vain will seek its own,
For each senson’s stores will vanish
Until Equity shall come.