Chapter II

Gim me back one gallus, too,
That buttoned with a peg,
An' them blamed ticks that burrowed through
The skin uv either leg,
An' that old single-barrel gun,
As crooked as a rail,
An' that same dog that used ter run
The molly cotton-tail,
An' lem me hav' the tops I spun--
The kites that I hav' sailed--
An' then at last, when life is done,
Who'd keer if it had failed?

DOWN ABOUT OLD SHAKERTOWN.

You may boast about the landscapes fair so far across the sea Of castled Rhine, and southern France, and favored Italy-- But have you seen, when Springtime flings the scented blossoms down, The forests and the meadows green around old Shakertown?

You may boast of some that bask beneath perpetual Summer's smiles-- Those "Eden's of the eastern wave"--the sunny Grecian isles-- And others that perhaps you've seen, of beauty and renown, But come and view the country spread around old Shakertown!

O come and boast that you have been where Nature's lavish hand Bestowed the gifts of wood and field that vie with any land-- Where valleys wear a velvet robe--the hills an emerald crown Of bluegrass shimmering in the sun, around old Shakertown!

O come to old Kentucky then, and to her garden spot, Then wander wheresoe'er you will, it ne'er will be forgot-- For Nature's face is wreathed in smiles nor wears a single frown To mar the beauty she has spread around old Shakertown!

MEMORIA IN AETERNA.

Sweet Memory! thou faculty divine-- Triumphant o'er the cruel hand of Time! On thy tablets we may trace The lines his fingers ne'er efface, And take with us till latest day The images that light our way, And picture thus in a shadowy form The loved and lost he's from us torn-- Their lids by Death so early sealed-- Life's crimson tide by him congealed-- The tyrant has not all concealed-- They in thy mirror still revealed!

Before the morning sunbeams kissed The face of Nature--veiled in mist-- And heralded with golden ray The opening of the perfect day-- Ere yet the sable shades of night At dawn's approach had winged their flight-- We've listed to the whispering breeze That's wafted o'er the trembling trees, And seemed to hear the voices sweet Of loved ones now we ne'er can meet Till earthly night shall pass away-- Supplanted by immortal day!

And thus in retrospective mood, Alone with Nature's solitude In some secluded sylvan dell, Her myriad voices float and swell And flitting shadows softly tell Of dear ones lost--yet loved so well! Then to the sunny home where dwelt-- (Ere yet the envious tyrant dealt The blow that blighted hopes have felt)-- Fond fancy wanders, and can see Once happy scenes that ne'er can be Lost in thy shades, O Memory!

But those to us so cruelly denied Are drifting now upon some fairer tide-- Their scattered ashes on Hope's pinions rise And people realms beyond the azure skies! Then may our faltering footsteps lead To where fond hearts may never bleed-- Where vanished faces, cherished forms, Are anchored safe from life's rude storms; Where strains seraphic, soft and low, The rapt ear greet, and we shall know The loved and lost we only see In visions of sweet Memory!

A MOTHER'S GRAVE.

I.

The years have passed in ceaseless round
Since first they laid her here to rest
In dreamless sleep beneath the silent mound,
With folded hands upon her gentle breast.

II.

The ivy twines about the crumbling stone,
And Springtime's scented blossoms fling
Their incense o'er the peaceful home
That knows no more of suffering.

III.

Full many a Summer's sun has shed
Its brightest smile upon the hallowed spot,
And sobered Autumn and wild Winter spread
Their garments here--she heeds them not!

IV.

The feathered wildlings of the wood and field
Their untaught melody around it make,
But she who sleeps with eyes so softly sealed
Their gladsome songs can never more awake.

V.

O restful sleep beneath the crumbling mold
To dream no more of hopes unrealized!
O Grave! What treasures do thy confines hold
By us so dearly loved and fondly prized!

A FRECKLE-FACED BOY.

I.

I'm just in my glory when the cat I can tease, Or I'm hunting for bird nests up in the trees, And I wear out my pants in the seat and the knees; I'm the pride of my daddy, my mammy's own joy-- A frolicsome, rollicksome, freckle-faced boy!

II.

I can make a top hum, and at marbles, you bet, I'm the cock of the walk and the king of the "set;" I'm hearty and healthy--and don't you forget The dead loads of "goodies" that I can destroy-- I'm a frolicsome, rollicksome, freckle-faced boy!

III.

They send me to school with my satchel and books, And my pockets bulged out with nails and fish-hooks; And sometimes while there my teacher she looks And captures the things that provoke and annoy From a frolicsome, rollicksome, freckle-faced boy!

IV.

My mammy she says that it's quite evident Of the country some day I'll be President; But auntie, she says from the way I am bent The gold of her dream will be full of alloy From a frolicsome, rollicksome, freckle-faced boy!