The Harvest
Eleven weeks ago, you went into the yard.
Beneath an inch of snow, the ground was frozen hard.
You worked to dig a hole, lit only by the glow
from hope you buried deep,
to see
what it
would grow.
Oh, you haven't told anyone.
Beneath that vernal sun, you sit patiently.
Oh, here comes the spring.
What will it bring? What will it be?
Beneath an inch of snow, the ground was frozen hard.
You worked to dig a hole, lit only by the glow
from hope you buried deep,
to see
what it
would grow.
Oh, you haven't told anyone.
Beneath that vernal sun, you sit patiently.
Oh, here comes the spring.
What will it bring? What will it be?
Credits
Writer(s): Hrishikesh Hirway
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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