This is the final installment in a series of three related quatrains by the young Clark Ashton Smith (CAS):
Albeit we plant the Future's seed each day
Potent with fate each thought, and word, and deed
We know not what shall spring from that hidden seed.
Rank thistles or red roses--who can say?
In the preceding poem "The Present", CAS ended with the phrase "the Future's unlit gloom." That ending did not seem to portend well for the Future, but in the present poem the author has a more dispassionate view, acknowledging that the Future might hold good things or bad things.
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