ON THE PRAIRIE

Across the dewy prairie

The morning wind is borne,

Beyond the new-mown hayfields,

And through the tasseled corn.

Upon the silver-maples

It lifts the swinging leaves,

And steals a subtile sweetness

From rows of golden sheaves.

Within the sunny orchard

The harvest apples fall,

While from the tossing branches

The saucy jay-birds call.

In crinkled, fringy clusters

The scarlet poppies burn,

Where, softly opening, eastward

The yellow sunflowers turn.

And nibbling in the garden,

Between the cherry trees,

I see a robber rabbit

Among the pink sweet-peas.

While with a fitful fanning,

The lazy wind-mill swings,

About the bloomy peaches

A robin redbreast sings.

And in the far horizon

There dwells such tender hue,

These azure cornflower blossoms

Are not so sweet and blue.