Child of earth, cultivator of the field,
Kneeling in worship on the garden floor,
Immeasurable by words is your yield -
The nature of the nature you adore.
With an essence of goodness you are sealed,
Your spirit sure as endless evermore.
Golden barley in the wisdom of age
Bows low in humility to the sage,
Who knows well that amongst all living things,
Creatures wherein noblest virtues show,
Are ever in a reverence of life found.
From a wholesome plot a wholesome crop springs!

The purest flowers and the sweetest herbs grow
In the richest soil, nearest to the ground.

~ Daniel F Mitchell