The Home Circle by Mary E. Folsom

Pacific Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Oakland, California · Oct 2, 1879

The Home Circle.

By Mary E. Folsom

A SUMMER AFTERNOON.

THE sunlight sleeping on the hills, In drowsy splendor dreams away The long slow hours, as if it felt The rapture of a perfect day.

The mountains stretch, broad waving line Of purple light along the sky, While at their feet rich shadows veiled Serene and fair the meadows lie.

There comes to us the hum of bees; A bird flits by on startled wing. And through dim arches in the woods We hear the swaying breezes sing.

With rippling laugh and silvery sheen, Through cool, green haunts of moss and fern, The brook betrays its hiding place, And clearer grows at every turn.

The wild rose lifts its blushing face Above the wayside grasses low, While pale wood lilies in the shade Their snow white bells swing to and fro.

O, golden summer afternoon, We rest content; we ask no more Only to hear the wind repeat The self-same story o'er and o'er.

Only to breathe the fragrant air, To watch the lights and shadows play, To quaff the nectar that the sun In brimming breakers pours to-day.

It is enough to be, to feel The tranquil mood of field and wood, To know God's blessing everywhere Hath made so much that's fair and good.

Mary E. Folsom, in Springfield Republican.