SWAYING TREE TOPS 



Through the yellow grain fields their 

 light feet hurry, over the brown, 

 dried meadow land, and across the 

 brook that is but a rivulet in the sum- 

 mer drought, staying not, but intent 

 on the orchards and radiant woods 

 beyond the gate. During these hur- 

 rying days many things grow into 

 maturity, and the day of seed on tree, 

 weed, and flower rules everywhere. 



One puts out a hand now and then 

 to keep from rushing down the slope 

 too fast. There are many minutes 

 which one wishes might be hours. 

 There is that country walk along a 

 highway bordered by fields of corn 

 and harvested grain. Here are 

 meadows, and sheep lie along the 

 fences. There in the corner of the 

 pasture the cattle stand close to keep 



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