SUMMER WOODS. 
I’ve seen the freakish squirril drop 
Down from their leafy tree. 
The little squirrils with the old— 
Great joy it was to me! 
And down unto the running brook, 
I’ve seen them nimbly go ; 
And the bright water seemed to speak 
A welcome kind and low. 
The nodding plants they bowed their heads, 
As if, in heartsome cheer. 
They spake unto those little things, 
“ ’Tis merry living here !” 
Oh, how my heart ran o’er with joy ! 
I saw that all was good, 
And how we might glean up delight 
All round us, if we would ! 
And many a wood-mouse dwelleth there, 
Beneath the old wood-shade, 
And all day long has work to do, 
Nor is, of aught, afraid. 
The green shoots grow above their heads, 
And roots so fresh and fine, 
Beneath their feet, nor is there strife 
’Mong them for mine and thine. 
