THE HOME FIELDS

By Evaleen Stein

The fields are full of sunlight,

And leafy golden-green,

And misty purple shadows

Are flitting in between;

The flaky elder flowers

Are drenched with honey-dew,

And all the distant woodlands

Stand veiled in tender blue.

Half seen between green thickets

Of grape-vine and wild rose,

In twinkling swirls of silver

The lazy river flows;

While down the grassy roadside

The milkweed balls are bright,

And waving prince’ s-feather

Is tipped with snowy white.

Ah, ever-dearest home-land,

’ Tis here my spirit sings!

And as my heart caresses

The sweet, familiar things,

Such rare midsummer magic

Distills through all the air,

I think these fields are fairer

Than any anywhere!