When clothed in quiet garb of summer sheen
My heart delights to view the restful scene,
While o’er thy wooded sides I fondly gaze
And note the open fields where cattle graze.
I like to trace the fence-rows of the farms
Which lie so restful in thy sweeping arms,
The woodlots and the fields of corn and wheat
And waving grain and dells of flowers sweet.
With all thy trees ‘tis hard for thee to hide
The rocky scar where men have pierced thy side.
The lichen covered crags so green and gray,
Grim tokens of earth’s early, bygone day,
Thy summit crown, and there in trysting meet,
While all in amethystine shadows sleep,
The first kiss, rosy with the morning sun,
And rays of fading light when day is done.