Vacation

THE IDLE HOUR

The robin sings on the topmost bough of the spreading maple-tree,
Where the cool green leaves to the whispering breeze are nodding merrily;
The sunbeams bright from the azure sky go frolicking here and there,
And the breath of the clover blossom lies sweet on the summer air,

And under the trees so restfully, where the shadows softest lie,
Like a woodland nymph in her netted couch between fair earth and sky,
Behold our dainty darling, safe hidden from friends away,
Content with the merry sunshine, the robin, and breeze to stay.