Bright Harvest by Grace Noll Crowell - HTML preview

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The Road to Grandmother’s

 

A

H, ME, for the road that led away

Between the rows of the hedges tall,

With a stretch of haze low down in the

west,

And a shimmer of clouds high over all.

And there were the fields of dreaming wheat

With a lark a-singing low in the grass,

With never a fear and never a care

For the passing by of a little lass.

And there was the breath of the clover blooms,

And the berry brambles a-reaching far,

But not so far as the heart of me

Reaching out where the dream worlds are.

 

And the road to grandmother’s led away

Straight on and on ‘til it came to the sea,

With the white waves curling out in the bay,

And always a ship waiting there for me.

And I never knew to be tired then,

Nor weary at all when the day was done,

And I’d walk the road from grandmother’s home,

Blithe and gay at the set of sun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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