Summer Morning
Elaine Goodale Eastman (1863 - 1953)
from All round the Year, Verses from Sky Farm

The rising sun I go to meet,
Swathed ankle-deep in dewy grass;
Rare fragrance stirs beneath my feet,
And round my pathway gather sweet
The secents of morning as I pass.

The tented maples o’er my head
Flash out aloft in leafy sheen,
While broken notes of flitting birds
Break in across my flatering words,
And drift along the shadowy green.

A glistening veil of purple haze
On nearer mountains softly lies;
The distance swims in liquid light,
Where blue peaks, rising height on height,
Dissolve like dreams in fainting skies.



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