Classic Poem

When moonlight touched to beauty all the field
Of beamy spear on spear,
Up through the silver night, up to the moon
Arose this anthem clear:

We are the army of the wheat.
We have battled through the ages
To set our signal in the skies,
Our story on earth's pages.

So long as man is man, so far
As the feet of man shall tread,
The flowers of the wheat shall bloom
And the mouth of the world be fed.

Winds are our boon confederates,
Impatient to reveal
That the lord of the world's fulfilment
Is the lord of the turning wheel

So in the piercing sweetness of a night.
In mist of dews upspringing,
I heard the conquering army of the wheat,
The host of beauty singing.