I love the fields of golden grain,

The meadows green and fair.

I love the fallow, fertile soil,

Prepared with living care.

I love the shocks of ripened corn,

The harvest that it yields:

Each Shock a sturdy sentinel,

‘Gainst the power of hunger wields.

I love the sight of newmown hay.

I love its fragrant smell

Instilled by nature’s alchemy.

It weaves a rustic spell.

I love the rain for its relief

When growing things are parched.

I love the sun against the rain,

And the rainbow, brilliant, arched.

I love the droning of the bees

In their search for golden honey.

This task performed thru countless years

With ne’er a thought for money.

I love to see a buckwheat field

When morning mists hang low.

Apple blossoms in the breeze

Swinging to and fro.

I love the murmur of the brook,

I love its joyful songs,

As part of nature’s symphony;

It always shall belong.

I love the moonlight’s silent glow,

The hush at even-tide,

The stars which in their bright array,

The ages have defied.

I love the woodland in the Fall,

When Autumn colors glow,

I love the wonderland, in the fall,

That’s where the mushrooms grow.