 | Poems |  |
TO FIELD-PATHS.
Paths of the fields,
O pleasant paths that stray
Through the deep wind-trod pastures of the Spring,
Through all the glory and the blossoming
That summer yields,
Companioned of the golden buttercup,
Up heaven's far cloud-flecked sapphire gazing—up,
Piercing to heights that see the skylark sing,
From the world's weariness—from hope's decay,
Lead me, oh, lead me, pleasant paths away,
Paths of the fields!
O pleasant paths that stray
Through the deep wind-trod pastures of the Spring,
Through all the glory and the blossoming
That summer yields,
Companioned of the golden buttercup,
Up heaven's far cloud-flecked sapphire gazing—up,
Piercing to heights that see the skylark sing,
From the world's weariness—from hope's decay,
Lead me, oh, lead me, pleasant paths away,
Paths of the fields!
Who knows not hours,
Hours when life longs to cease
Its endless questioning of the mystery
Of sorrow! when the eternal ill we see
All hope o'erpowers!
Oh, in such hours of darkness and of fear,
In joy and quietude, oh, be ye near,
Near in deep tranquilness and gladness be;
Through nature's placid calm—through sweet release
From doubt—from tears, oh, lead me, paths of peace,
Paths of the fields!
Hours when life longs to cease
Its endless questioning of the mystery
Of sorrow! when the eternal ill we see
All hope o'erpowers!
Oh, in such hours of darkness and of fear,
In joy and quietude, oh, be ye near,
Near in deep tranquilness and gladness be;
Through nature's placid calm—through sweet release
From doubt—from tears, oh, lead me, paths of peace,
Paths of the fields!
| Poems | |