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The Givers of Life
I
WHO called us forth out of darkness and gave us the gift of life, Who set our hands to the toiling, our feet in the field of strife?
Darkly they mused, predestined to knowledge of viewless things, Sowing the seed of wisdom, guarding the living springs.
Little they reckoned privation, hunger or hardship or cold, If only the life might prosper, and the joy that grows not old.
With sorceries subtler than music, with knowledge older than speech, Gentle as wind in the wheat-field, strong as the tide on the beach,
Out of their beauty and longing, out of their raptures and tears, In patience and pride they bore us, to war with the warring years.