p. 10 | The Pasture by Susan Hartley Sweet

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Jul 5, 1906

The Pasture

By Susan Hartley Sweet

On the rough hillside far apart From the gay city street The pasture in green stillness lies, A corner cool and sweet, Where rosy thistles white and old Grow ere the summer’s tale is told.

Where mullein-stalks like candles pale Within the gray rocks shine; The hardhack builds her crimson tower Against the wall’s rough line; The lady birch in silken ease Whispers soft secrets to the bees.

Brooks that of woodland gossip know Through clumps of sweet-fern trail, And fill the blue-striped iris cups Ere they rush down the dale. The daisies with their broad, white breasts Hide strawberries and sparrows’ nests.

At night the sheep-bells, tinkling soft, Lull the green world to sleep; The white stars crowd above the hill, And watch while night is deep, As tenderly as o’er the eaves Of far, still homesteads deep in leaves.

Dame Nature’s household large and sweet, Where all the beds are free, There are no locks upon the door, And quiet company May rest in peace till from the sod The skylark rises, praising God.

— Susan Hartley Sweet, in C. E. World.