A LITTLE EARTH 



*OME tread with me the measure 

 of the fields. The year, the 

 world, has but just smiled into 

 full waking. A long, slant 

 splendor of early sun-rays gold- 

 tips the budding trees. Through the wind- 

 less air smoke rises in thin, blue columns, 

 to waver and fade out in the light-flooded 

 sky. 



Now, truly, 



" Jocund day 

 Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-top." 



Listen the joyful noise of mating birds, of 

 tinkling waters arace to the far sea, of hoof- 

 beat, of chain-clank, and loud-throated sing- 

 ing, as ploughmen troop to turn the steamy 

 earth. 



Verily a heartsome task. See the bright 

 share slip along, mellow mould crumbling 

 away from it to lie loose and fresh behind. 

 What fine, vital breath it has ? Clean, uplift- 

 ing, truly the odor of immortality. Older 



