John Vance Cheney

The message from the hedge-leaves,
Heed it, whoso thou art;
Under lowly eaves
Lives read more

The message from the hedge-leaves,
Heed it, whoso thou art;
Under lowly eaves
Lives the happy heart.

A breath, whence no man knows,
Swaying the grating weeds, it blows;
It comes, it grieves, it read more

A breath, whence no man knows,
Swaying the grating weeds, it blows;
It comes, it grieves, it goes.
Once it rocked the summer rose.

No command of art,
No toil, can help you hear;
Earth's minstrelsy falls clear
read more

No command of art,
No toil, can help you hear;
Earth's minstrelsy falls clear
But on the listening heart.

I question not if thrushes sing,
If roses load the air;
Beyond my heart I need not read more

I question not if thrushes sing,
If roses load the air;
Beyond my heart I need not reach
When all is summer there.