 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
BERRYING SONG.
Ho! for the hills in summer!
Ho! for the rocky shade,
Where the groundpine trails under the fern-leaves.
Deep in the mossy glade.
Up in the dewy sunrise,
Waked by the robin's trill;
Up and away, a-berrying,
To the pastures on the hill!
Ho! for the rocky shade,
Where the groundpine trails under the fern-leaves.
Deep in the mossy glade.
Up in the dewy sunrise,
Waked by the robin's trill;
Up and away, a-berrying,
To the pastures on the hill!
Red lilies blaze out of the thicket;
Wild roses blush here and there:
There 's sweetness in all the breezes,
There 's health in each breath of air.
Hark to the wind in the pine-trees!
Hark to the tinkling rill!
Oh, pleasant it is a-berrying
In the pastures on the hill!
Wild roses blush here and there:
There 's sweetness in all the breezes,
There 's health in each breath of air.
Hark to the wind in the pine-trees!
Hark to the tinkling rill!
Oh, pleasant it is a-berrying
In the pastures on the hill!
We'll garland our baskets with blossoms,
And sit on the rocks and sing,
And tell one another old stories,
Till the trees long shadows fling;
Then homeward, with laughter and carol,
Mocking the echoes shrill.
Oh, merry it is a-berrying
In the pastures on the hill!
And sit on the rocks and sing,
And tell one another old stories,
Till the trees long shadows fling;
Then homeward, with laughter and carol,
Mocking the echoes shrill.
Oh, merry it is a-berrying
In the pastures on the hill!
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |