The Woodland Path

By David H. Smith
Son of the Prophet, Joseph Smith, Jr.

Adown the woodland path, at break of day, I love to roam,
To brush the dew drops from the fresh, green grass;
To hear the wild bird singing in his cool and shady home,
And watch the painted moths and butterflies go past.
The minnows dart along the stream;
And in the golden sunlight gleam;
The distant hills are hazy like a dream;
And all is fair, adown the woodland path.

In every nook some sight of beauty wakes a tender thought;
Some flower blooming by some old gray stone;
Or tiny bird’s nest with abundant skill and labor wrought;
Or faithful shadow over shining waters thrown.
The thickets darkly dense and still,
Where scarce the slender vine leaves thrill;—
Unbend, 0, brow! and sad heart, take thy fill
Of rest, beside the lonely woodland path.

0, bend above me, honeysuckle, blooming in the wood;
And breathe upon my face thou low, sad wind;
Whose gentle cadences will do my weary spirit good,
While care and toil, a moment enter not my mind.
The forest brings to me a balm;
Its moving gives my soul a calm;
As if the Spirit of the great I Am,
Came to me, while I roam the woodland path.

Autumn Leaves 1:129