To thee, I dedicate my fondest rhymes

In memory of happy days of yore,

Together on the Cumberland, where Ruth,

The charming rustic maid of olden times

First won our love, less for her lack of lore,

Than for her sweet simplicity and truth.

[Pg 41]

[Pg 41]

NEARING THE MERIDIAN

I dream to-night of happy childhood days;

I see two humble homes and thrill with joy;

The years come back when I was but a boy,

And you had ringlets for the gods to praise:

The old Old Swing, the fields of golden maize;

The moving pictures in the clouds above;

The mating birds, their nests, their songs of love—

All this, dear Lord, through years of mist and haze!

And then I turn and look beyond the Shade,

And those who wrought for us are waiting there:

Our mothers with their crowns of silver hair,

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