  Lying on the new-mown hay, in a sightly field, On a summer day, With no care to weigh, Or a bitter thought to stay all that sense might yield— What a joy to have alway! Sky as blue as blue can be, perfect green all round, Birdlings on the wing Ere they pause to sing On the top of bush or tree, or on sweet hay-mound— Restful joy in everything! Butterflies just come to light, proud of freedom's hour, Cows in pastures near, Wondering why I'm here, Chipmunks now and then in sight, bees in clover-flower— Added joy when these appear! Happy children far and near climbing loads of hay, Running here and there. Farmer's work to share, Skipping, shouting loud and clear, full of daring play— Children's joy! Joy everywhere! |
|
