  Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, When our mother nature laughs around; When even the deep blue heavens look glad, And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground? There are notes of joy from the hangbird and wren, And the gossip of swallows through all the sky; The ground squirrel gayly chirps by his den, And the wilding bee hums merrily by. The clouds are at play in the azure space And their shadows at play on the bright green vale; And here they stretch to the frolic chase, And there they roll on the easy gale. There’s a dance of leaves in that aspen bower, There’s a titter of winds in that beechen tree, There’s a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower, And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea. And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles, On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray, On the leaping waters and gay young isles; Ay, look, and he’ll smile thy gloom away. Sculpture of Hebe, one arm raised A. Canova (1757-1822). Hebe. |
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