Selected Poems

by Frederick George Scott




I love the light in the golden eyes
    Of the cottages up on the hill,
When the sun goes down at eventide,
    And the fields are white and still;
The work of the winter’s day is done,
    The logs on the hearth-stone gleam,
While the children play at the close of day
    And their elders sit and dream.

The stars, too, love the world at eve,
    For they come out, one by one,
And look this way at the cottaged hill
    And that at the buried sun.
And never the moan of a wind is heard
    Through all the cloudless deep,
For the God above in his fatherly love
    Has put the woods to sleep. [Page 81]