By the sunny meadow, A wild rose, pale, is growing; And the soft wind flows With gentle whisper, blowing.
Through the verdant pastures, The bluebird sings so lightly; In the realm of nature’s Joy, the heart beats sprightly.
- Mary E Wilkins Freeman
By the sunny meadow, A wild rose, pale, is growing; And the soft wind flows With gentle whisper, blowing.
Through the verdant pastures, The bluebird sings so lightly; In the realm of nature’s Joy, the heart beats sprightly.