large/11131/among_the_trees_again_1609_librivox_64kb_mp3/trees_29_stein_64kb_3
large/11131/among_the_trees_again_1609_librivox_64kb_mp3/trees_29_stein_64kb
English
11131
_SYMPATHY_ To night a little child lies dead; I never saw its face; I try to fancy now instead Its lines of baby grace. And for the sake of her who weeps These lonely watches through So wakefully my spirit keeps A weary vigil, too. KAY TO NIGHT A LITTLE CHILD LIES DEAD I NEVER SAW ITS FACE I TRY TO FANCY NOW INSTEAD ITS LINES OF BABY GRACE AND FOR THE SAKE OF HER WHO WEEPS THESE LONELY WATCHES THROUGH SO WAKEFULLY MY SPIRIT KEEPS A WEARY VIGIL TOO
he whole Wide waste of worlds I hide my sight, And from the boundless night! The ancient mystery of the skies, Their silent depths from pole to pole, The void, the vastness terrifies! —O, let me rather search your eyes, And with your sweet, warm touch disperse This terror of the universe That strikes into my soul! _THE HOME FIELDS_ The fields are full of sunlight, And leafy golden-green, And misty purple shadows Are flitting in between; The flaky elder flowers Are drenched with honey-dew, And all the distant woodlands Stand veiled in tender blue. Half seen between green thickets Of grape-vine and wild rose, In twinkling swirls of silver The lazy river flows; While down the grassy roadside The milkweed balls are bright, And waving prince’s-feather Is tipped with snowy white. Ah, ever-dearest home-land, ’Tis here my spirit sings! And as my heart caresses The sweet, familiar things, Such rare midsummer magic Distills through all the air, I think these fields are fairer Than any anywhere!   SYMPATHY BY EVELEEN STEYNE READ FOR LIVERBOX DOT OR BY DEB 
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