And a grand jubilate of rapture.
Rang out from a chorus of birds;
But the few thoughts my spirit could capture
Can never be put into words.
I roamed where the summer had gladdened
With lavishly bountiful hand;
And a joy that was deeper and sweeter than
Lay soft on the thrice-blessed land.
And the bonnie brown bird in her tiny
As it swung from the frailest of boughs,
Thought her home the dearest and safest
As a maid thinks her lover’s fond vows..
’Neath a sunshade of fern and a lattice of
Until noon lay the dew-gems of morn;
Like the love that still worships and trusts
Thro’ the heat of a world’s cruel scorn.
<poem> And the earth gave her life to the beautiful
- And the flowers gave their love to the