The Cape Girardeau Democrat. (Cape Girardeau, Mo.) 1876-1909, 1892-06-25
WHERE , WOULD RATHER LIVE.

" all The paSS On the Garth I'd rather live an,
die,
There's one-A queer old fashiored East mi
green trees waving high
ITS net a bit like m"acsn style, its paint i
faded gray:
Its window psnes arc small and wry, an,
climbing roses play
At hide Z seek upon the walls, and In tn
cssrment wide
Whore sunbeams stroke with soothing toeci
two kittens side by side.
The sloping roof n quie; green has gathcre'
with the years
And at the end, piled stone on stone, /. csintue,
There's such a messy old irisk Salk leads frou
the uuhingcd gate
Through rows ~ Kinks and micorciia al,
"pineys' rpbed in state;
The hlacs rod their purp;o tlYmcs TO appl
blossoms pink,
And hollyhocks er.ne the fence the early dew
drops srinG-
A mother hen with downy brood is scra,-srb;
by the well
In me-: pressed beds Of whose smooth form
there's nothing ten 10 tell
The wide riayza curtained with cool vine,
whorr trumpets sing
a ho7oyed song 10 humming birds and bees OF
listening wing:
How often in their fragrant shade conccalcI
lTDn StGllf ana rare
I've dreamed Ctopian visions in thu tlrrp old
rocking chair.
Beyond the opened door upon the old oak fool
Of the hall
And scattered on the stairs are toys, ru- dol
lies, top and ball
All. what confusion sometimes reigns as Will
their happy play
Dear ''pitty-pat and tippy-toc" bcguilc the live
long day
There's grand disorder through the rooms, bu,
suct. a welcome cheer;
No prtm, fastidious chill has iced this genial at
mosphere-
YOUR Just as apt to find your ha, and GLOVES ~
coat and cane
On floor or chair a. in the rack; ard hang then
there again
The table tops dont always shine. and in Ire
dust you'll find
Odd figures littic hands have traced, % he by
love dcdrtd-
There's sometimes sugar on the board. some,
times an empty bowl:
Perhaps a fork or spoon that's lost and in the
cloth q hole
I've sen a cobweb on the wall-it softcncd
every tone
As wires to aid acoustics do-cach echo swecicr
o. what delight the children find in their we
butterfly
The lamps don't always burn, lis true, but
there's another light
That mellows every shade Of gloOm-Iove-s
glcaming, soft and bright.
No ceremony still repels the visitor-or me.
And kindly hands will ever stop to make a 'cup
o tea
What tho the broom has gone astray or stitches
lose their place
The simple meals are seasoned with Iae
sweetest kind of grace.
What tho The carpets worn 10 rags, or door
knobs out Of style
Affection CLOVIS upon the hearth, lifc's lighted
with 4 smile
Then Dot rc live, and let me die, II l must die at
all,
Where every joy ard every pain that to a NOR
tai fall
Arc blendcd with devoted love, affection warm
and sweet;
Wbere there's enough Of honest care TO make
ones rest complete:
Where summers filed with fragrant bloom and
winters bright and cheer.
That touch each day with fond carcss and make
existence dear:
wherr nesting birds contcnted sing, as through
the elm tree old
The sun hcams play with shadows sliding down
their bars of gold:
Where some one always fills my pipe and, in
Tho twilight glow.
gown and slippers with a kiss / d"arIy
love TO know:
Where sorrow: melt within IN" light Of sym.
pathy, and care
a pastime In the hands my jewels
swectly wear:
Rare diamonds Of constancy, rich rubics Gasn- !
ing love,
Deep sapphircs Of faith, and pearls Of kindness
from above.
Yes, give me gentle peace that's proved by fleet
ing signs Of strife:
melody NJ Home. Sweet Home sung by
dear babes and wife.
@. let me live and let me die. when Ger tho time
shall come,
Within the blooming gardens realm, my quaint
old cottage home.
George Z. Bowen, in Sunday Inter Ocean