Their little lives they yield in summer death, And frequently Across the field bereaved their dying breath Is brought to me.
I saw her walking in the rain, And sweetly drew she nigh; And then she crossed the hills again To bid the day good-by. “Good-by! good-by! The world is dim as sorrow; But close beside the morning sky I’ll say a glad Good-morrow!”
O dweller in the darling wood, When near to death I lie, Come from your leafy solitude, And bid my soul good-by. Good-by! good-by! The world is dim as sorrow; But close beside the morning sky O say a glad Good-morrow!
I hear the far moon’s silver call High in the upper wold; And shepherd-like it gathers all My thoughts into its fold.
Oh happy thoughts, that wheresoe’er They wander through the day, Come home at eve to upper air Along a shining way.
Though some are weary, some are torn, And some are fain to grieve, And some the freshness of the morn Have kept until the eve,
And some perversely seek to roam E’en from their shepherd bright, Yet all are gathered safely home, And folded for the night.
Oh happy thoughts, that with the streams The trees and meadows share The sky path to the gate of dreams, In their white shepherd’s care.
From the time the wind wakes To the time of snowflakes, That’s the time the heart aches Every cloudy day; That’s the time the heart takes Thought of all its heart-breaks, That’s the time the heart makes Life a cloudy way.
From the time the grass creeps To the time the wind sleeps, That’s the time the heart leaps To the golden ray; That’s the time that joy sweeps Through the depths of heart-deeps, That’s the time the heart keeps Happy holiday.
I wandered down the woodside way, Where branching doors ope with the breeze, And saw a little child at play Among the strong and lovely trees; The dead leaves rustled to her knees; Her hair and eyes were brown as they.
“Oh, little child,” I softly said, “You come a long, long way to me; The trees that tower overhead Are here in sweet reality, But you’re the child I used to be, And all the leaves of May you tread.”
It has been twilight all the day, And as the twilight peace On daily fetters seems to lay The finger of release,
So, needless as to tree and flower Seem care and fear and pain; Our hearts grow fresher every hour, And brighten in the rain.