What say thou; sweet rains mean nothing to land - Be its pride parched, drowning in tears, near death, Perhaps, - no; rain will mean nothing to land. What say thou; the wind without Easter's breath Can reap the barley in the fall. Then reap, Wind, what thou hath lost before. What say thee - What, yet again? This chasm, 'tis too deep To cross with words, to bridge with memory. Thou means't much; say'st e'en less with words unlit - Claim the world's brushstrokes, plant again thy means! Cast away from Earth's polarized orbit Stand far, stand still - hold this image for me. What means't the sun? The light of warmth of light; Means't the world tomorrow be not today bright?