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being a child again |
Down by a little shady brook Sat a cricket with a solemn look In the water clear and cool Swam a fish who was no fool A bird on a waving willow twig Sang a song to a sleepy pig. In the meadow red, red berries grew: Overhead an eagle flew. Climbing o're the old rail fence Wild roses shed their fragrance. Into the future my thots traveled fast. As I sat on the bank mossy and green I thot of the things I never had seen, Wondering what there was in life for me. And if the castles I built could ever be. But as I sat thus in thot so deep I never dreamed life's road could be so rough and steep For my childhood then was happy and free From the cares that would later come to me. Oh give me back those childhood days When I only dreamed and did not know life's ways. Then I did not worry because I could not know All the mysteries above and below But was content for I was sure That when I'd older grown and knew much more I'd know it all and be so wise I'd know no sorrow under the skies. Oh little stream in the mountain wild If I could only be thy child And laugh and sing from morn till night Free as an eagle in it's flight: Carry gladness, scattering cheer And brightening the earth from year to year: Never fretting never crying And never sorrowing because of someone dying: Doing good tho far from the crowd Where all is noisy harsh and loud. Oh little stream if I was you My childhood dreams would all come true For then I'd miss all vise and sin Yet do my part in the world to win All things to beauty and to God THE HEART THATS IN IDAHO If sometimes my eyes have a foreward gleam Its because I am traveling, I am not where I seem; My heart's off in Idaho, I hear its long call, The wonderlust's got me - I'm dreaming - that's all. I'll trade you a subway, and that with delight For a horse and a buggy and a ride in the moon-light. My hearts sped to Idaho, I can all but hear The cayottes wild call, which many might fear. My ears catch the wild birds minor refrain. And I feel the refreshment of a midsummers rain. Oh this hearts off in Idaho and whistling a tune To the jolt of the {can't make out this word!} wagon coming home at noon. A man that's only camped in a small village inn Has no conception of the great cities din If his heart's once in Ida he's caught in a clutch Of better than symphonies orchestras - much. You can't know the joy in your cities blazoned pleasures Of a lift in the country wich {with?} its hoard of great treasure; Of sunshine and flower and natures run fountains. Playing at will in Idaho's wild mountains. Each spot is a storybook laden with tales Of unconquered nature and wild animal trails. And the heart that's once started on classics long track Leaves part of itself, never wholly comes back. So keep your land of the crowded east and central too But give me Idaho in the west so new. Where all is beauty, wild and free. I'm going back to Idaho the only place f or me. |