So on the soft turf I sat silently thinking,
Of days when dear brother was by;
While slowly and surely the bright sun was sinking,
Far down in the clear western sky.
Ring, ring, went the bell; and then, O, what a hustling!
All knew 'twas the signal to part;
What searching for bonnets and boxes! what bustling!
All hurrying, eager to start.
We left ere the shadows of evening were dimming
The broad fields and woods all around;
And with our swift steam-horse, again we went skimming
Through village, and meadow, and town.
We soon reached the city, and after the saying
Of cheerful "Good night," to our friends,
We sought our own home without further delaying,
And the rest night to weariness sends.
'Twas a blest, happy day; and oft in my dreaming
That cool, shady grove do I see,
With its bright little spots where the sunlight lay gleaming,
And all that was pleasant to me.
And much do I hope, when again, my dear mother,
The summer shall come with its flowers,
Our teachers will kindly allow us another
Such Pic-nic, mid Nature's green bowers.
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