Spirit of the Earth
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The Earth is Yellow
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
The earth is yellow,
Under the winter's aglow;
Spring will come and grow,
A seed from under the snow.
Sleepy old forest,
With branches so barren;
Now you must adjust,
For the new and the foreign.
The earth is quite old,
Where shadows shall dissolve;
For winter can not hold,
What must revive and evolve.
The mountains become blue,
From distance faraway;
And everything come through,
With midnight sun and day.
The earth is my mother,
And with here I shall be;
Like each my sister - brother,
For all the rest of eternity.
Catch as catch you can,
The gold of green and new;
Now returns summer's van,
For youthful thoughts and hue.
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
The earth is yellow,
Under the winter's aglow;
Spring will come and grow,
A seed from under the snow.
Sleepy old forest,
With branches so barren;
Now you must adjust,
For the new and the foreign.
The earth is quite old,
Where shadows shall dissolve;
For winter can not hold,
What must revive and evolve.
The mountains become blue,
From distance faraway;
And everything come through,
With midnight sun and day.
The earth is my mother,
And with here I shall be;
Like each my sister - brother,
For all the rest of eternity.
Catch as catch you can,
The gold of green and new;
Now returns summer's van,
For youthful thoughts and hue.
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