The smoke curled lazily

To sky that seemed asleep,

In still air hazily

The far hills melted deep,

Blurred with sheep.


The bees hummed busily,

The flowers were rich and fair;

Small gnats flew dizzily

Upon the quivering air,

Here and there.


The stream ran noisily

On its bed, pebble- lined;

Soon to nest cosily

Where long grasses twined,

There to wind.


The reapers slowly

Up in the hayfield cut;

And cottages lowly

Slept at the mountain foot,

Doorways shut.


And I lay happily

On the soft grassy sod,

Wondering sleepily

If slumper slipper-shod

Came to God!



Weekly Times 16.6.61