On
the grand heights of Arlington,
Protected
from the scorching sun,
Wend
we our way with careless tread,
On
Nature’s green and leafy bed.
Fresh
blows the pure and wholesome air,
Of
which there’s plenty and to spare.
How
grand this breeze from Nature dame!
We
fill our pockets with the same.
And,
on our woodland stroll we find,
Our
vines and branches intertwined,
Ripe,
rich blackberries, fresh and sweet
As
those we buy on Cambridge street.
The
soft wind stirs the branches green, –
A
sense of drouse steals o’er the scene;
And,
as we linger ‘neath the trees,
We
send this song upon the breeze:
“O,
Arlington Heights! – place of rare sights;
Long
may you be a resting place,
A
refuge from this careworn race.”
Aug.
13, ‘91
Pub.
in
Cam.
Press
view of Boston from Arlington Heights
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