In The Vales.

A poem by Freeman Edwin Miller

When from these vales I go,
That slumber on in dreams,
O, will the summer winds dance to and fro,
And kiss the streams
That play where roses scatter fond perfume
And lilies burst with bloom?

Glad children of the spring,
They moan their music sweet
Where tangled grasses wave, and softly sing
Where meadows meet,
And wildwood shadows drooping bless
The groves with happiness.

Their soothing songs I hear
Among the granite hills,
Above the elfin warbles rich and clear
From rippling rills,
As if they called my soul in future days
To wander all their ways.

Ah, moaning winds, you seem
To fill my musing breast
With lullabies that linger as I dream
And bring me rest;
For melodies from your low voices creep
That soothe my heart with sleep!

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