Chapter XXIV The Service of Music to the Countryside
Harmonies
The scrubbing’s done; my kitchen stands arrayed
In shining tins, and order reigns supreme.
And on the table, like a fairy dream,
A row of pies and cakes, all freshly made
And full of spicy odors, stands displayed;
While from the oven, like a rising stream
Of incense, comes a fragrance, warm, supreme...
The bread, its final browning still delayed.
Now while I sit beside the oven door
I take up my guitar upon my knee,
And singing the old songs I knew of yore,
My happy youth comes back again to me—
Music and incense rising on the air!
Courage is mine, and all the world is fair!
—Helen Coale Crew.