With a new cadence in his call,
The glint-wing d crow will roam
From field to newly furrowed field
Away down home.
When dogwood blossoms mingle
With the maples modest red,
And sweet arbutus wakes at last
From out her winter s bed,
} T would not seem strange at all to meet
A dryad or a gnome,
Or Pan or Psyche in the woods
Away down home.
Then come with me, thou weary heart!
Forget thy brooding ills,
Since God has come to walk among
His valleys and his hills.
The mart will never miss thee,
Nor the scholar s dusty tome,
And the Mother waits to bless thee,
Away down home.
AN IDYL
Upon a gnarly, knotty limb That fought the current s crest, Where shocks of reeds peeped o er the brim, Wild wasps had glued their nest. And in a sprawling cypress grot, Sheltered and safe from flood, Dirt-daubers each had chosen a spot To shape his house of mud.
