A SUMMER RAMBLE. THE quiet August noon has come, And mark yon soft white clouds that rest Enjoy the grateful shadow long. Oh, how unlike those merry hours, In early June, when Earth laughs out, When the fresh winds make love to flowers, And woodlands sing and waters shout. When in the grass sweet voices talk, But now a joy too deep for sound, Away! I will not be, to-day, The only slave of toil and care. Away from desk and dust! away! I'll be as idle as the air. Beneath the open sky abroad, Among the plants and breathing things, The sinless, peaceful works of God, I'll share the calm the season brings. Come, thou, in whose soft eyes I see One day amid the woods with me, And where, upon the meadow's breast, Shall glow yet deeper near thine eyes. Come, and when mid the calm profound, Rest here, beneath the unmoving shade, Winding and widening, till they fade The village trees their summits rear One tranquil mount the scene o'erlooksThere the hushed winds their sabbath keep, While a near hum from bees and brooks Comes faintly like the breath of sleep. Well may the gazer deem that when, The good forsakes the scene of life ; |