Shade

How green the trees along yon’ road
Do seem against the sunlit glow,
That glist’ning, casts upon the leaves
A sparkling prism of purest sheen.

Such verdure rich and color deep 
Are rare, indeed, on city street, 
Along the course of hasty tread
Of countless, weary, downcast heads.

And yet, the em’rald leaves do shine
‘Neath sunlight pure and breezes fine,
To beckon hence the care-worn soul,
“Come hither; rest, and make thee whole”.