A Holiday Song.
• « . BY GRACE E. DENISON. A little way from Work-a-day, Down the small slope of mild desire, There swings a gate to bar the way, With roses and sweet-brier. While you and I, when time is ripe, Upon its fragrant threshold stand, And look across the harvest fields In fruitful Leisure-Land. In Leisure-Land the breath, like balm, Sighs from the moist lips easily, The eyes shine clear, the brow is calm, The heart beats full and free. There is no sound of fret nor strife, Of urging call nor harsh command, One drinks a fresh, sweet draught of Life, • In blessed Leisure-Land ! The birds sing soft, the cushats coo, The breeze just whispers to the flowers, Deep-lined with autumn, as they fade, To mark the peaceful hours. The dancing brooklets wider sweep, All voiceless where the blue flags stand, Rocking the drowsy bees to sleep, In restful Leisure-Land.
Then come, while harvest moon is full. Sweetheart, adown the sloping way, And whisper secrets to my soul, Too dear for common day. A little space, for thee and me, Whiob, heart to heart, and hand in hand, Apart from weary Work-a-day, We’ll spend in Leisure-Land |
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/NZMAIL18961203.2.33
Bibliographic details
New Zealand Mail, 3 December 1896, Page 18
Word Count
196A Holiday Song. New Zealand Mail, 3 December 1896, Page 18
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