I AM grown weary for new scenes But not of human make.
But O! for hills and long green fields,
A splintered, glittering lake.
This day I am an intimate
With sky and bird and tree.
With budding and turbulent streams
And God’s immensity.
I am enamored with fresh days
with rain and sun.
The tho’t of thine
O! God has made me dumb.
Thy goodness is so wide, a thing
Beat, for me slower time.
I cannot sing so great a song
In one short life like mine.