I trace the hidden river’s course
By long, low clouds of trailing mist,
Through which the bright’ning trees beyond
Rise like veiled hills of amethyst.
And, as the sunlight more intense,
And clearer with the morning grows,
The distant forest’s vistas dim
Their varied lights and shades disclose.

Upon encircling heights upborne
One field lies lone and far away,
Framed round by smoky red and gold
That changes through the livelong day;
Fresh as an Eden in the dawn –
At noon, a flame with splendid light;
Dim, hazy, in the afternoon;
In evening hushed; asleep at night.

It is the spot that Spring finds first,
While yet the drifts in hollows lie;
She grants it kinder winds, her hands
Spread over it a warmer sky.
There Summer lingers, loathe to leave;
There Autumn’s rarest colors glow;
It’s desolation winter hides
Beneath the purity of snow.

It sends me on each wandering wind
The breath of blossoms – many a strain
Sung low by brooding birds in nests;
There first I see the advancing rain.
So when the day’s hard tasks oppress
The heart is wearied with its care,
I lift my weary eyes, and Lo!
I find sweet Peace abiding there. (24-5)