Family Tree Home
WHEN SUMMER GOES TO SLEEP
I shall miss my flowers so
When summer goes to sleep,
Flowers with laughing faces,
Little ones that weep.
Vases will still contain
Blossoms on stems so gay
But they can't be the same
As came my garden way.
How much I'll miss my flowers
No words can ever tell;
Flowers growing from moist beds
Have loved me, oh, so well.
They have told me many things
Revealed their secrets deep,
And I shall miss this all so much
When summer goes to sleep.
I like to travel winding paths I've never seen
Broad paths that run and twist O'er hill and glen,
And feel fresh, new born winds blow strong against my cheek,
And smell sweet scents from flowers grown knee deep.
My heart with joy and pleasure then beats fast
To see tall trees against blue sky loom vast
And as I pause upon my pathway fair,
I smile to see such beauties as are before me there.
Today I travel on a path that's wild and lone,
A strange, rough, cruel, untraveled path hard as stone;
For war's unmerciful hand has snatched away our boys,
And as I fold away their clothes among their toys
Of other days and years, I try to calm my thoughts
And crush my fears. My pulses throb, fast comes my breath,
Too well I know wars pitiless paths of chance and death.
Oh, Comrade of this path I travel on,
Be kind to mine and every mother's son,
And grant that ne'er again burst bomb and shell
On men and world that Thou dos't love so well.