The espalier | Project Gutenberg

THE HAPPY DAY

All day long

I purpose in yonder

Green meadows to wander

And think of a song.

I shall take

Provision of berries,

Black treacle cherries,

And possibly cake.

Where the boughs

Of gliding willows

Freckle green pillows

I shall drowse,

Or wander blithe

Through scented acres

Where haymakers

Sharpen the scythe.

I shall not lack,

I shall not trouble;

Through fields of stubble

I shall come back—

While dusk is spread,

While twilight lingers—

With purple fingers,

A song in my head.