To Nature


                               The dawn of day,

                       Sunset’s last ray,

     The hills now heather clad,

                       The sweeping moors,

                       The lark that soars,

                       Things make me glad.



      No crowded street,

                        No bustling feet,

                        All hurry, and all noise,

      The humming bee,

      The leafy tree  

                        Are all far greater joys.




 

                       By Brenda Shaw, a Shropshire poetess  1917 - 1975.


                        Used with kind permission.