Shapes and Shadows — After long Grief and Pain

AFTER LONG GRIEF AND PAIN.

There is a place hung o'er with summer boughs And drowsy skies wherein the gray hawk sleeps;

Where waters flow, within whose lazy deeps, Like silvery prisms that the winds arouse, The minnows twinkle; where the bells of cows Tinkle the stillness, and the bob-white keeps Calling from meadows where the reaper reaps, And children's laughter haunts an old-time house;

A place where life wears ever an honest smell Of hay and honey, sun and elder-bloom-- Like some dear, modest girl--within her hair: Where, with our love for comrade, we may dwell Far from the city's strife whose cares consume-- Oh, take my hand and let me lead you there.