Focus . all the earth lay fair bathed in his light,That I passed softly through a field of corn,And heard the tuneful leaf-blades sing their have I strolled, said I, amid the corn,But have not heard the music in its voice—The rustling music, crisp and delicate,The wind-blown symphony of the springtime summertimes warm glow of afternoon,I walked again, amid the full-grown rose this time, a richer, fuller song,More than the rustling lyric of the spring—A song spun out of teeming, verdant life. Then passed sweet summer with her warmth of soul Into the brilliant haze of
Focus . all the earth lay fair bathed in his light,That I passed softly through a field of corn,And heard the tuneful leaf-blades sing their have I strolled, said I, amid the corn,But have not heard the music in its voice—The rustling music, crisp and delicate,The wind-blown symphony of the springtime summertimes warm glow of afternoon,I walked again, amid the full-grown rose this time, a richer, fuller song,More than the rustling lyric of the spring—A song spun out of teeming, verdant life. Then passed sweet summer with her warmth of soul Into the brilliant haze of autumns fire. At eve, amid the ripened corn, I stood; And listened breathless for its twilight song. Twas one of life full-lived, and joy and peace— Born in the freshness of the dawn of life,— Strong in the noonday of the fullest bloom. And hopeful of the harvest to the end. The promise radiant in the fruitful grain, Gold in the mellow light of sunsets glow— The symphony softened low. R. J. 278 THE FOCUS Twould have done little good for anyone, evenhis anxious physician, to tell Ronald Graynot to think. He knew, better than anyonecould tell him, that it was not good for asick man nearing fifty-five to look back overhis past years, especially when he wished thathe had lived them differently. But somehow, tonight—he would let him-self think for one night and then perhapshis thoughts would not bother him. Tonight more thanany other night they came crowding one over the otheruntil the weight of them oppressed him. The sense ofage—the knowledge that he was old—quite old—came too—and it had always been age that he had dreaded. He looked about the luxuriously appointed room,at the massive furniture, the thick carpet, the expensivepictures, the open fire and then slowly, very slowly, it allfaded away. Once again he was twenty and leaving home. He hadtold them all good-bye and had gone to say it to her forwhom he was going to win his fortune. It was in the littl
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjectlongwoo, bookyear1913
