Across the Fields

Across the fields like swallows fly
Sweet thoughts and sad of days gone by;
From Life's broad highway turned away,
Like children, Thought and Memory play
Nor heed Time's scythe though grass be high.

Beneath the blue and shoreless sky
Time is but told when seedlings dry
By Love's light breath are blown, like spray,
Across the fields.

Now comes the scent of fallen hay,
And flowers bestrew the foot-worn clay,
And summer breathes a passing sigh
As westward rolls the day's gold eye,
And Time with Labor ends his day
Across the fields.