When Maples Run

I love to lie beneath the arch
Of overhanging boughs;
I love to hear the swaying bells
Of homeward turning cows.
But oh, I love, when spring is here,
When skies are blue, and streams are clear,
To see the trickling sap appear
When maples run.

I love to roam in solitude
Along the woodland ways;
I love to see the roses blush
In early June-time days;
But, oh, I love to walk at will
When spring-time winds are never still;
When sap is flowing like a rill,
When maples run.

I love to see the water-falls
Within the mountain pass;
I love to hear the gurgling stream
Flow o’er the pebbled grass.
But best of all I love to see
The sap so clear, so fresh, and free
Drip from the gnarled old maple tree,
When maples run.

– 1928