Clipped from the head of an angel fair,

Whose hands are beckoning you!

[Pg 52]

[Pg 52]

TO SCENES I USED TO KNOW.

I can see the back-log blazing and the sparkles take their flight

Up the cavernous old chimney on a merry Christmas night;

I can see the old folks smiling and the children's cheeks aglow,

And a saucy maiden standing there beneath the mistletoe;

I can hear the laughter mingle with the strains of music sweet

As we tripped the light fantastic with the "many-twinkling feet;"

I can see the moonlight gleaming through the trees upon the snow,

When memory takes me back again to scenes I used to know.

I can see the candles burning bright upon the Christmas tree;

I can see the presents handed round, and hear the shouts of glee,

And from the buried years there comes a-stealing on the heart

A something indefinable which bids the tear-drop start;

I can see the blue smoke curling, through the little strip of wood

Between the winding turnpike road and where the farmhouse stood;

I can see the colts a-playing, I can hear the cattle low—

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