The Dial faced the summer sun,
The garden blossomed all around;
If happiness could bless a scene
I felt that here was holy ground;
Afar I heard the chime of bells,
And caught a glimpse of gleaming towers,
And all the while the Dial sang,
Until the dell with echoes rang,
“I only count the shining hours.”

And as the years go fleeting by,
And locks of brown are flecked with grey,
And shadows loom across the rim
Of what was once a perfect day,
There swings a cadence through my brain,
A cadence born of sun and flowers,
When all the dell enchanted rang
With that dear song the Dial sang:
“I only count the shining hours.”
~ Peter Airey ~