IN THE MEADOWS

             I walk alone at sunrise,
             To the meadows decked in green
             When the dewdrops new crystalled
             On the blades of grass are seen;
             I watch the birds soaring
             To the heavens with delight;
             There i see the early morning,
             Draw the curtains of the night.

             There I hear the quail whistling,
             A soft, rustic, mellow tune,
             While the air is flower-perfumed,
             Like a lovely days in June;
             I watch the bamboos quiver,
             At the passing of the breeze,
             And I can almost hear the secrets,

             It has whispered to the trees.
             As the morning paints the heavens,
             With colors of radiant gold,
             My heart from slumber wakens,
             This rare beauty to behold!
             My spirit with gladness laden,
             Knows the comfort  of the sod;
             And I feel a great contentment,
             And a nearness to my God.