summer noons
Sometimes he would be abroad late at night , summoning the doctor for his father or returning from a visit to another neighborhood . In every farmhouse that he passed on the country road the people were asleep -- over all the shadowy land they were asleep . And everywhere , guardian in the darkness , watched the moon , pouring its searching beams upon every roof , around every entrance , on kennel and fold , sty and barn -- with light not enough to awaken but enough to protect : how he worshipped toward that lamp tended by the Sleepless ! There were summer noons when he would be lying under a solitary tree in a field -- in the edge of its shade , resting ; his face turned toward the sky . This would be one over-bending vault of serenest blue , save for a distant flight of snow-white clouds , making him think of some earthward-wandering company of angels . He would lie motionless , scarce breathing , in that peace of the earth , that smile of the Father . Or if this same vault remained serene too long ; if the soil of the fields became dusty to his boots and his young grain began to wither , when at last , in response to his prayer , the clouds were brought directly over them and emptied down , as he stepped forth into the cooled , dripping , soaking green , how his heart blessed the Power that reigned above and did all things well !