The old farm-home is Mother's yet and mine,
And filled it is with plenty and to spare--,
But we are lonely here in life's decline,
...
Ho! I'm going back to where
We were youngsters.--Meet me there,
Dear old barefoot chum, and we
Will be as we used to be,--
...
Elizabeth! Elizabeth!
The first May-morning whispereth
Thy gentle name in every breeze
...
Lay away the story,--
Though the theme is sweet,
There's a lack of something yet,
Leaves it incomplete:--
...
When Memory, with gentle hand,
Has led me to that foreign land
Of childhood days, I long to be
Again the boy on bended knee,
...
There is ever a song somewhere, my dear;
There is ever a something sings alway:
There's the song of the lark when the skies are clear,
...
The touches of her hands are like the fall
Of velvet snowflakes; like the touch of down
The peach just brushes 'gainst the garden wall;
...
Old Man Whiskery-Whee-Kum-Wheeze
Lives 'way up in the leaves o' trees.
An' wunst I slipped up-stairs to play
In Aunty's room, while she 'uz away;
...
A strange life--strangely passed!
We may not read the soul
When God has folded up the scroll
In death at last.
...
He wooed her first in an atmosphere
Of tender and low-breathed sighs;
...