RURAL RAMBLES. 



Over the hills as the pewee flies, 

 'Neath the glorious blue of summer skies ; 

 Through briery wastes where wild birds dwell, 

 Deep in the shade of some rocky dell ; 



Where the pennyroyal and mint smell sweet, 

 And the blackberry ripens in cool and heat ; 

 Down the winding path by the rippling rill. 

 By the old-time creek, by the dear old mill ; 



By the vine-clad fence, in the alder's shade 

 Where woodchucks and merry squirrels invade; 

 Through spreading fields of daisies bright, 

 Where butterflies roam from morn till night ; 



Past upland and hollow whence scents are blown 

 Of clover blossoms and flowers well known ; 

 Over swamp and marshland where red-wings sing. 

 While in flag and tussock their nest they swing; 



Through ancient orchards, o'er meadow^s green. 

 Where roses and buttercups girt the stream; 

 Away through the woodlands' emerald shade 

 By sparkling springs, through fern-clad glade, 



By old quarry ponds where memories cling 



And gay swallows circle on tireless wing; 



From dawn's early light till twilight's gloaming, 



With scenes ever changing, there's pleasure in roaming. 



— Berton Mercer. 



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