If out beyond the city’s farthest edge
There were no roads that led through sleepy towns,
No winds to blow through any thorny hedge,
No pathways over hazel-tufted downs,
I might not, when the day begins, be sad
Because I toil among the money-mad.
If out beyond the distant hill there lay
No valley graced by any winding stream,
And if no slim, white steeples far away
Might mark the spots where drowsy hamlets dream,
I could, perhaps, at midday be content
Where striving millions at their tasks are bent.
If far away from noise and strife and care
There were no buds to swell on waiting trees,
No mating birds to spill upon the air
The liquid sweetness of their melodies
I might, at sunset be serene and proud
Because a few had seen me in the crowd.
--The Chicago _Record-Herald_.
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=Country, Love of=--See FIDELITY; HOME WHERE THE HEART IS.
=Country, Serving One’s=--See SEEKING SERVICE.