Tis July

T'is a place...where water-sprites,
Are seen in fountain spray.
Where elfins in bright gossamer,
Are dancing in their play.

T'is a place...where silver tails,
Of birds...skim past my eyes.
Where brilliant glimpses daze,
The quickening realm of butterflies.

T'is a place...where rootlets grow,
Where nature has no wicked wrath.
But lays its freshness in the dew,
Along embankments of a path.

T'is a place...where mountains rise,
And shadows make a lace design.
Where waters glisten in a pool,
And the beautiful things...are mine.

T'is a place...where love abounds,
Where thoughts...just bubble over.
A smile...a glance...a tender touch,
Can lead my foot-steps...to thy door.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

Nicole (Ethel's great grand daughter-in-law) enjoying July.