A CREED FOR JUNE.

A CREED FOR JUNE.
404.3

I believe in the love of the earth for the morning,
While tree tops talk of the day to come;
I believe in the gladness of hopes a-born- ing
While yet the lips of them tremble- dumb.

I believe in the wet, fresh smell of the meadows
Caught and kissed by the conquering sun.
I believe in the sweets that hide in the shadows
By gray stone walls, where still brooks run.

I believe in the long, straight beams that quiver, uver,
Falling down through the great white day,
While under the face of the glittering river
Currents are moving, and eddies play.

I believe in the rising scent of the flowers
Filling the cup of the afternoon;
I believe in the height of the cloudy towers
Built in the west, to fall too soon.

I believe in the music of hidden thrushes
Only heard in the tangle of trees-
I believe in the lullaby wind as it hushes
Green little leaves, and the drone of bees.

I believe in the good, great world, and love it,
I love and believe in Man, and the call
Of the soul that is in it, and yet above it.
I believe in the God who made it all.
-Winfield Scott Moody.