Meadow And Sea By Amos Russel Wells

I watch the children play beside the sea
Upon an upland meadow lifted high,
The ocean large before them, wave and sky
A boundless panorama wild and free.
The clouds in floating companies agree.
White ships allure the fondly following eye,
And all the glowing prospect far or nigh

Is Nature’s meditative jubilee
And yet the children toss their little ball,
Shouting and rioting in heedless play,
Unmindful of the glory of it all,
Nor thinking once beyond their meadow gay.
Among the buttercups they leap and fall
The ocean wide before them—what care they?