Let me live my life among them, cheerful, kindly folks and true,
And I’ll ask no greater glory till my time of life is through;
Let me share the love and favor of the few who know me best,
And I’ll spend my time contented till my sun sinks in the west;
I will take what fortune sends me and the little I may win,
And be happy on those evenings when a few good friends drop in.

The Book of Memory

Turn me loose and let me be
Young once more and fancy free;
Let me wander where I will,
Down the lane and up the hill,
Trudging barefoot in the dust
In an age that knows no “must,”
And no voice insistently
Speaks of duty unto me;
Let me tread the happy ways
Of those by-gone yesterdays.

Fame had never whispered then,
Making slaves of eager men;
Greed had never called me down
To the gray walls of the town,
Offering frankincense and myrrh
If I’d be its prisoner;
I was free to come and go
Where the cherry blossoms blow,
Free to wander where I would,
Finding life supremely good.

But I turned, as all must do,
From the happiness I knew
To the land of care and strife,
Seeking for a fuller life;
Heard the lure of fame and sought
That renown so dearly bought;
Listened to the voice of greed
Saying:  “These the things you need,”
Now the gray town holds me fast,
Prisoner to the very last.

Age has stamped me as its own;
Youth to younger hearts has flown;
Still the cherry blossoms blow
In the land loused to know;
Still the fragrant clover spills
Perfume over dales and hills,
But I’m not allowed to stray
Where the young are free to play;
All the years will grant to me
Is the book of memory.

Pretending Not to See

Sometimes at the table, when
He gets misbehavin’, then
Mother calls across to me: 
“Look at him, now!  Don’t you see
What he’s doin’, sprawlin.’ there! 
Make him sit up in his chair. 
Don’t you see the messy way
That he’s eating?” An’ I say: 
“No.  He seems all right just now. 
What’s he doing anyhow?”

Mother placed him there by me,
An’ she thinks I ought to see
Every time he breaks the laws
An’ correct him, just because
There will come a time some day
When he mustn’t act that way. 
But I can’t be all along
Scoldin’ him for doin’ wrong. 
So if something goes astray,
I jus’ look the other way.

Mother tells me now an’ then
I’m the easiest o’ men,
An’ in dealin’ with the lad
I will never see the bad
That he does, an’ I suppose
Mother’s right for Mother knows;
But I’d hate to feel that I’m
Here to scold him all the time. 
Little faults might spoil the day,
So I look the other way.