The Daily Dispatch

A Summer Longing.

BY GEORGE ARNOLD.

I must away to wooded hills and vales,
Where broad, slow streams flow still and silently
And idle barges flap their listless sails;
For me the summer sunset glows and pales,
And green fields wait for me.

I long for shadowy forests, where the birds
Twitter and chirp at noon from every tree;
I long for blossomed leaves and lowing herds,
And nature's voices say, in mystic words,
"The green fields wait for thee."

I dream of uplands, where the primrose shines
And waves her yellow lamps above the lea;
Of tangled copses swung with trailing vines;
Of open vistas, skirted with tall pines,
Where green fields wait for me.

I think of long, sweet afternoons, when I
May lie and listen to the distant sea,
Or hear the breezes in the reeds that sigh,
Or insect voices chirping shrill and dry
In the fields that wait for me.

These dreams of Summer come to bid me find
The forest shade, the wild bird's melody;
While Summer's rosy wreaths for me are twined,
While Summer's fragrance lingers on the wind,
And green fields wait for me.