JUNE ON THE MERRIMAC.
67
You know full well these banks of bloom,
The upland's wavy line,
And how the sunshine tips with fire
The needles of the pine.
The upland's wavy line,
And how the sunshine tips with fire
The needles of the pine.
Yet, like some old remembered psalm,
Or sweet, familiar face,
Not less because of commonness
You love the day and place.
Or sweet, familiar face,
Not less because of commonness
You love the day and place.
And not in vain in this soft air
Shall hard-strung nerves relax,
Not all in vain the o'erworn brain
Forego its daily tax.
Shall hard-strung nerves relax,
Not all in vain the o'erworn brain
Forego its daily tax.
The lust of power, the greed of gain
Have all the year their own;
The haunting demons well may let
Our one bright day alone.
Have all the year their own;
The haunting demons well may let
Our one bright day alone.
Unheeded let the newsboy call,
Aside the ledger lay;
The world will keep its treadmill step
Though we fall out to-day.
Aside the ledger lay;
The world will keep its treadmill step
Though we fall out to-day.
The truants of life's weary school,
Without excuse from thrift,
We change for once the gains of toil
For God's unpurchased gift.
Without excuse from thrift,
We change for once the gains of toil
For God's unpurchased gift.
