A daisied meadow lying fair under a summer sky;
Sweet ferns and grasses bowing low to the zephyrs hurrying by;
Over the woodland hangs the mist of the recent summer shower,
And the bees and butterflies idly flit through every wayside flower.
Over the quiet fields I come, watching with dreamful eyes
The clouds that fleecily, lightly sail over the tender skies.
Watching the swallows stretch their wings in the wonderful space above,
And my heart soars up with a thankful prayer for the Father's beautiful love.
The robin sits on the maple bough, singing his mate a song,
While little by little the day declines, and the shadows are growing long;
And down the lane the cattle stray, cropping the tender grass,
While, swinging her sun-bonnet in her hand, follows the farmer's lass.
I hear the ring of the scythe and hone in the fields not far away,
And the merry hum of the mower's song, as he makes his fragrant hay.
Oh, day so fair from the Maker's hand! oh, skies so soft and blue!
Can thoughts be other than true and good when born from such as you?
