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ReadingWillow structured literacy program for Australian students

God's-Acre

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow·1807–1882
Lines:20Movement:Romanticism
I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which callsThe burial-ground God's-Acre! It is just;It consecrates each grave within its walls,And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. God's-Acre! Yes, that blessed name impartsComfort to those, who in the grave have sownThe seed that they had garnered in their hearts,Their bread of life, alas! no more their own. Into its furrows shall we all be cast,In the sure faith, that we shall rise againAt the great harvest, when the archangel's blastShall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain. Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom,In the fair gardens of that second birth;And each bright blossom mingle its perfumeWith that of flowers, which never bloomed on earth. With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod,And spread the furrow for the seed we sow;This is the field and Acre of our God,This is the place where human harvests grow!