Home Lights.
The light of June that shines on tremulous leaves
Of softest green, how fair a thing to see!
When shafts of dawn touch birch and maple tree,
Or sunset’s hour a mesh of magic weaves;
The diamond light that flashes on the sea
In August noons,—a dazzle of pure rays.
With lovely ground of blue, whereon we gaze
From cliff or sandy shore in ecstasy;
The light that blazes on the mountain way,
Or, strained to pallor, steals to lonely dells;
None are forgotten on this autumn day,
As with sweet memories the glad heart swells;
But as the October sun drops down the west,
We say with smiling lips, Home lights are best.