I’d thought I’d polish all the floors
And finish a hundred household chores,
But a little boy wanted a story read,
His dinner cooked and his puppies fed.
A brown thrush down in the woods nearby
Called me to look at God’s blue sky,
And the sunshine, warm on her joyful way,
Begged me with all of her might to stay.
With fields full of clover and the apple trees,
The rosy richness of a springtime breeze,
I forgot all the work that I’d planned to do
And just loafed in the meadow till the day was through.
Why the tasks aren’t finished I can’t explain;
I try to feel sorry but all is in vain.
All the rapture I’ve known I just wouldn’t miss,
For no day will be as happy as this.
by Edna B. Hawkins