Drowsy old summer, my dream days have gone;
Only things which are real I must now look upon;
No longer I see in the skies overhead
The pictures that were, for the last one has fled. 
I have learned that not all of our dreams can come true;
That the toilers are many and heroes are few;
But I’d like once again to look up there an’ see
The man that I fancied some day I might be.

I Ain’t Dead Yet

Time was I used to worry and I’d sit around an’ sigh,
And think with every ache I got that I was goin’ to die,
I’d see disaster comin’ from a dozen different ways
An’ prophesy calamity an’ dark and dreary days. 
But I’ve come to this conclusion, that it’s foolishness to fret;
I’ve had my share o’ sickness, but I
                           Ain’t
                                Dead
                                    Yet!

Wet springs have come to grieve me an’ I’ve grumbled at the showers,
But I can’t recall a June-time that forgot to bring the flowers. 
I’ve had my business troubles, and looked failure in the face,
But the crashes I expected seemed to pass right by the place. 
So I’m takin’ life more calmly, pleased with everything I get,
An’ not over-hurt by losses, ’cause I
                           Ain’t
                                Dead
                                    Yet!

I’ve feared a thousand failures an’ a thousand deaths I’ve died,
I’ve had this world in ruins by the gloom I’ve prophesied. 
But the sun shines out this mornin’ an’ the skies above are blue,
An’ with all my griefs an’ trouble, I have somehow lived ’em through. 
There may be cares before me, much like those that I have met;
Death will come some day an’ take me, but I
                           Ain’t
                                Dead
                                    Yet!

The Cure for Weariness

Seemed like I couldn’t stand it any more,
  The factory whistles blowin’ day by day,
An’ men an’ children hurryin’ by the door,
  An’ street cars clangin’ on their busy way. 
The faces of the people seemed to be
  Washed pale by tears o’ grief an’ strife an’ care,
Till everywhere I turned to I could see
  The same old gloomy pictures of despair.

The windows of the shops all looked the same,
  Decked out with stuff their owners wished to sell;
When visitors across our doorway came
  I could recite the tales they’d have to tell. 
All things had lost their old-time power to please;
  Dog-tired I was an’ irritable, too,
An’ so I traded chimney tops for trees,
  An’ shingled roof for open skies of blue.

I dropped my tools an’ took my rod an’ line
  An’ tackle box an’ left the busy town;
I found a favorite restin’ spot of mine
  Where no one seeks for fortune or renown. 
I whistled to the birds that flew about,
  An’ built a lot of castles in my dreams;
I washed away the stains of care an’ doubt
  An’ thanked the Lord for woods an’ running streams.