Monday reveries and recollections . here melody is full and free As bird songs in the spring: So, free from care. Away Ill fare To rest me there. 14 JMondat; H^est Summer • In a shady nookI lie and lookAt the shadows so cool and deep—At the shadows under the treesWhere the indolent stimmer breezeIs languidly falling asleep: I look where a beauteous bandLive afar from the worlds unrest,Where, near me, in lovliness dressed, The dearest of wild-flowers stand: For the violet yonder grows,And the bonny blue-bell is near:There the buttercup blinks, and here. On this hill, blooms many a rose. In this
Monday reveries and recollections . here melody is full and free As bird songs in the spring: So, free from care. Away Ill fare To rest me there. 14 JMondat; H^est Summer • In a shady nookI lie and lookAt the shadows so cool and deep—At the shadows under the treesWhere the indolent stimmer breezeIs languidly falling asleep: I look where a beauteous bandLive afar from the worlds unrest,Where, near me, in lovliness dressed, The dearest of wild-flowers stand: For the violet yonder grows,And the bonny blue-bell is near:There the buttercup blinks, and here. On this hill, blooms many a rose. In this shady nookI lie and lookAt the timorous wild-wood folk:Catch a glimpse of a thrushDarting out of the brush,While some blackbirds rest on an oak: Here the meadow-lark comes ofttimesAnd the quail builds her nest anear:Here the robin calls out, Good cheer I And the bobolink sings his rhymes: From the brook leaps upward the trout:The squirrels look down from the , nearer than any of these, The rabbits are running ()\:\i 15 In this shady nookI lie and lookFar up where the summer breeze,With a softly murmuring- sound,Whicli whispers and floats around,Is waving the tops of the trees; I look up to the deep blue skyWhere each moment a vision bringsOf some bird which, on tireless wings, Passes swiftly, silently by; I look up where a cloud, afloat—A beauteous cloud of white mistWith center of dark amethyst-Sails by, an etheral boat. i^^^^i Our Church Though every place be hallowed ground. Where good men are expressingTheir faith and love, yet we have found This church of God a blessing;For oft we tarry here for rest A¥hen we are worn and wearyTill, free from care, we onward fare, Nor find the world still dreary. Oft here our trembling faith grows strong. While truth all doubt is slaying;Oft here our hopes burst into song— The blest result of praying:So still well seek within these walls Our God, and bow before him,Since it is sweet for friends to meet
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