Classic Poem

That time soon closes! And, ah! woe to him,
When it has closed, who's not so wisely sown,
That he may sing no spiritual harvest hymn;
Nor with such foresight planted as to own
Interest in heaven's own garner; never known
Blighted to be or barren, from the store
Filled of celestial seed. East winds have blown
In vain, and mildew sought its bane to pour
On that celestial hoard, sound even to the core.