It stood so proud when I was young
that elevator on the prairie,
so full of harvest’s golden dust,
but time has made it weary.
I too stood proud when I was young,
my smugness I did carry.
But now I list just as it does,
a sight that’s not so cheery.
But as the setting sun arrives
and settles down behind it,
that tower seems to straighten up,
and take my carriage with it.
So now as days pass rapidly
and I’ve no wish to know it,
I only look one time a day.
In the dimness we don’t sow it.