Classic Poem

Say, who this year such refuse
Amongst the corn hath shed,
Rank weeds and wheat that's blighted
That stupefies the head,
Vile darnel, and that greatest bane,
Strong tares that choke the growing grain?

The shooting-match but lately
These hurtful weeds betrayed;
Half blinded seemed the marksmen,
Not one a “bull's eye” made.
The new-made beer was most in fault,
Vile tares were mingled with the malt.

We needs must bolt and winnow
What seems so marred by blight,
The sieve must cleanse it throughly
From chaff and refuse light.
Remove at least that greatest bane,
The tares that choke the growing grain.

So ye, by us appointed
The seeds of truth to sow,
Sift out the trashy refuse
That wrought such harm and wo:
Weeds, darnel, and that greatest bane,
The tares that choke the growing grain.