A PASTEL IN VERSE
Golden sunlight on a rye-field softly
Gleaming when the summer day is waning;
Bathing all the field in heavenly glory,
Flooding it with mellow amber light.
Far away the verdure of the hilltops
Rises up to meet the summer sky,
And the great white ships that sail the heavens
Drift against them but they do not perish
Like the ships that sail the treacherous sea.
Among the nodding heads the busy bee
Is searching for the sweetness of the flowers,
Just as mortals look for joy and gladness
Among the brambles in the field of life.
Here a swath of golden grain is lying
Telling of the farmer's life of toiling,
And the children in the distant farmhouse
That he labors here so hard to feed.
There the grain in graceful stacks is standing,
Telling of the store that must be gathered
E'er the winter comes with sleet and snow.
And these are nature's wondrous fields and skies,
Her trees, her flowers, her grain fields, and her fruit,
And her richness and her wondrous beauty,
All are man's and to him freely given,
He the rightful lord of all creation
And the highest, noblest work of heaven.
Gleaming when the summer day is waning;
Bathing all the field in heavenly glory,
Flooding it with mellow amber light.
Far away the verdure of the hilltops
Rises up to meet the summer sky,
And the great white ships that sail the heavens
Drift against them but they do not perish
Like the ships that sail the treacherous sea.
Among the nodding heads the busy bee
Is searching for the sweetness of the flowers,
Just as mortals look for joy and gladness
Among the brambles in the field of life.
Here a swath of golden grain is lying
Telling of the farmer's life of toiling,
And the children in the distant farmhouse
That he labors here so hard to feed.
There the grain in graceful stacks is standing,
Telling of the store that must be gathered
E'er the winter comes with sleet and snow.
And these are nature's wondrous fields and skies,
Her trees, her flowers, her grain fields, and her fruit,
And her richness and her wondrous beauty,
All are man's and to him freely given,
He the rightful lord of all creation
And the highest, noblest work of heaven.
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