The Forest.

There is sunshine in the valley where the bright river flows;
There is shadow in the forest where the cool fern grows,
And the sounds of the market cease;
And the gifts of the valley the whole world knows—
But the gift of the forest is peace.
There is laughter in the valley where the children play;
There is stillness in the forest where the tree-ferns sway
And the soft breeze sinks to sleep;
And the joys of the valley are swift and gay—
But the joy of the forest is deep.
There is labour in the valley, unto good—and ill;
There is rest in the forest, and the air's athrill
With a hush where angels trod;
For the soul of the valley is the blind world's will—
But the soul of the forest is God.

—Jean H. Mather.