In The Meadow
A
Andrew Blakemore
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In the meadow cattle graze
Above the field the morning haze
Does drift upon late summer days
And cloaks the distant hills.
In the meadow butterflies
Do float across the morning skies
Now as the early sun does rise
Above the distant hills.
In the meadow by the farm
The air is still and there is calm
Amid its beauty and its charm
Beneath the distant hills.
In the meadow flowers grow
Far and wide and high and low
And where a little brook does flow
Down from the distant hills.
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