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.