Summer Time

 SUMMER TIME

I love to hear the little birds
That carol on the trees;
I love the gentle, murmuring stream;
I love the evening breeze.

I love to hear the busy hum
Of honey-making bee,
And learn a lesson, - hard to learn,  
Of patient industry.

I love to think of Him who made
Those pleasant things for me.
Who gave me life, and health, and strength,
And eyes, that I might see.

The child who raises, morn and eve.
In prayer its tiny voice,
Who grieves whene'er its parents grieve,
And joys when they rejoice, -

In whose bright eyes young genius glows,
Whose heart, without a blot,
Is fresh and pure as summer's rose, -
That child's a sunny spot.