Lovely Things

Oh, speak to me of lovely things,
Where God...the heart instills.
A hawk above those lofty heights,
And stately pine-trees on the hill.

Oh, speak to me of water falling,
Where cataracts leave some to drain.
For mirrored depths with waves reflecting,
Tangled thickets in the rain.

Oh, let my eyes catch up the vastness,
Where prairie paints with careless stroke.
Can fill those places with rare beauty,
Even though no songster woke.

Give, Oh give, to me the sunset,
Coppered clouds, in chariot race.
Crimson thrones with velvet pillows,
Draped with Nero's figured lace.

Lend my ears to sweetest music,
Gardens bright in freshened dawn.
Moon-lit pathways on the water,
As ripples move with gliding swan.

Do, speak to me of lovely visions,
That I may treasure earthly ties.
And keep my memories ever turning,
Till death comes on to close my eyes.


E.P. 1908 - 1989