Where Soft Winds Blow
by Julia Morgan Harding
Where soft winds blow and shadows lie
On sunflecked grass 'neath beeches high
The warm earth breathes forth odors rare,
A rhythmic humming fills the air--
The voice of summer passing by.
A flock of white sheep in the sky
Strays northward, gazing dreamily
Through heavenly meadows rich and fair,
Where soft winds blow.
In greenwood glads the tree-tops sigh
For sorrow that the year must die.
But summer days are still to spare,
And nature bids us banish care,
Unreckoned let the sweet hours fly--
Where soft winds blow.
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