A Summer Day

Again across the calm of morn
The sharp cicada shrills;
Again the pee-wee, lone and lorn,
Pipes from the wooded hills;.
And meadow-ward athwart the plain
Slow moves the harvest wain.

Again the fever of the noon
Touches the toiler's brow;
Again in haze the grain-fields swoon,
And lifeless hangs the bough;
Again the rill, its course along,
Hushes its under-song.

Again the pensive eve draws on,
And earth's fast-closing eyes
A space are raised to dwell upon
The wonder of the skies;
Again untroubled, boundless, deep,
Broods the vast sea of sleep.