Classic Poem

When spring days come and I have naught to do,
I love to rest beneath some spreading tree,
And gaze aloft into the dreamy blue
And think of all the wonders sweet and true
A gracious Father hath prepared for me —
The earth all fair upon whose verdant breast
I lie at rest;
The freshness of the morn, the joyous birds,
The tuneful lowing of the distant herds;
The lovely mysteries
Of budding trees;
The dawning beauties of the garden-close,
The violet, the daffodill, the rose;
The misty hills now greening in the sun;
The twilight lengthening when day is done —
These gifts divine
All, all are mine,
To take, to use, and fitly to enjoy,
Whatever may annoy.
Wherefore in spring I love to rest and brood