Upon the river's bank I lie
Beneath the cloud-flecked, azure sky,
While sedge, and fern, and waving tree,
In Nature's looking-glass I see—
The hay-rack, with its fragrant load
Passing along the grass-grown road—
The teamster with his easy swing,
The mower's scythe, with backward fling,
The falling grass, the rhythmic tread,
Mirrored upon the river's bed.
The swallows flitting to and fro,
Meet shadow-swallows down below—
While nearer, with their busy hum,
The bumble-bees and blue-flies come.
