I neither sow nor reap,
But glean through supermarket shelves
To pluck what’s going cheap.

No mellow fruitfulness is here,
But sterile, tidy tins,
And crops all smart in cardboard coats
And glossy plastic skins.

No harmony of autumn leaves –
But glaring lies entice,
And labels scream: ‘There’s ten pence off.
It’s cheap at half the price!’

No sound of tractors in the fields,
But cram-full trolleys clash,
And jingling tills bind sheaves of notes,
And gather in the cash.

No need to plough and scatter now
The good seed on the ground:
With canned, convenient, frozen food
It’s harvest all year round!

So through these claustrophobic fields
Robot-like I roam –
And long for fragrant country air
And joys of harvest home.

And chapels heaped with fruit and flowers,
Arranged with homely art,
Where grateful mortals yield to God
The harvest of the heart.

So through that soulless check-out point,
Bring all you can afford –
And check in here at...(name of Church)
And come and praise the Lord!

Arnold Kellett