A RIDE TO TOWN

Oh, the road that leads to town On a summer morning! Yellow sunshine on the fields, Mist the hills adorning; Leaves soft blowing in the breeze Fresh from summer showers; Roadside, as we drive along, Crowded thick with flowers. Aunt Matilda flaps the reins; “Raisins, flour, and butter; We must not forget the yeast”; (How the corn leaves flutter;) “We must get a skein of yarn And some gingham patches”; (How the river, where it turns, Sky’s own color matches!) “Here we are at Peter’s Mill; Yes, they’re busy grinding”; Through Green Meadow, just beyond, Bubble Brook is winding; Satin crows perch on the trees; Auntie counts her money; While she’s gone I sing my joy;— Bees are making honey!