If yet, as in old Homer's land,
Gods walk with mortals, hand in hand,

Somewhere to-day, in this sweet weather,
Thinkest thou not they walk together?




Barefooted



The girls all like to see the bluets in the lane
And the saucy johnny-jump-ups in the meadow,
But, we boys, we want to see the dogwood blooms again,
Throwin' a sort of summer-lookin' shadow;
For the very first mild mornin' when the woods are white
(And we needn't even ask a soul about it)
We leave our shoes right where we pulled them off at night,
And, barefooted once again, we run and shout it:
You may take the country over --
When the bluebird turns a rover,
And the wind is soft and hazy,
And you feel a little lazy,
And the hunters quit the possums --
It's the time for dogwood blossoms.

We feel so light we wish there were more fences here;
We'd like to jump and jump them, all together!