DANCING ON A LEVEL ROAD

  It is a happy thing to dance
    A long a level road
  So brave a deed to take a chance
    Of slipping off the load.

IT WAS HOME

  A little old house in a sheltered nook,
  Some cottonwood trees near a babbling brook,
  A sturdy gnarled oak by a grassy lane
  That leads to green pastures past flowing grain. 
  A trellised rose bush hides a crumbling wall,
  Where lovers have stood near the waterfall;
  Beyond the sun sets in a golden glow
  And shadows stretch far to the mead below. 
  A shining wire fence follows up the hill
  And curves about to the graded fill. 
  Then back to the house in a cozy spot
  We loiter there on the hallowed lot,
  Where Mother’s sweet face waits, in gentle calm,
  And Father sits near and roads an old psalm.

QUESTIONS

  If I could brush the cobwebs from my eyes,
      What could I see? 
  If I could roll the boulder from my path,
      What would I be?

DISTRUST

  He walks the safest way;
  There must be no thistles on his path. 
  He knows all men are clay. 
  If truth wears feathers in her cap,
  They must be plucked away,
  That all may proven be.

COUNTING

  The morning sun casts purple in the fields,
  A mocking bird sings gaily in the oaks,
  White fluffy clouds rest in the murky sky. 
  It is yet cool, the maples scarcely stir,
  But noon will burn the grasses by the way
  And give the girl there at the soda fount
  A welcome trade.  The heat will parch the earth,
  So that flowers will wilt and droop their charm. 
  But night will come and bring refreshing breeze
  And fold a soothing mantle over all
  Like mother spreading blankets over Tom. 
  Now day by day the summer slips on by,
  Its stifling heat and gloomy skies will pass. 
  And winter cold will come with hoary frost;
  Yet by our hearths we rest in quiet peace,
  Secure our roofs and snug our sheltered beds. 
  Remember Spring, how roses bloom and flamed! 
  And how the sunny days kept pace with time. 
  In winter some hours will be gilded gold. 
  It’s true our blessings add up more than half.

ON THE FERRY

  A multitude of lights twinkled in glee;
  Receding ones reached out, their friendship gleamed
  With hands across to shield from dark, it seemed;
  And coming dock was lit from home to sea. 
  There was no gloam and dusk for you and me. 
  The stars above, grand sentinels all reamed,
  Conducting us home like naught ever dreamed;
  The scalloped bridge festooned like a Christmas tree,
  And gate post lamps led strangers through