The Somerset reporter. [volume] (Skowhegan, Me.) 1868-1909, 1897-04-08


Sing song Of pioneers, old Massachusetts,
soLs,
Always marching in the when there's
worn to %.
Two bold boys Of that dear dame. so the story
runs,
Lit the flame thBt warns the hearth Of home,
for me and you.
pile the logs above the dogs and draw
your chars up higher
We thank you, boys, f5r all the joys, we
find beside your fire.
On the fairest island, that gems our rivers
breast,
There-the fathers plant the corn, where red
men ceastd the isle,
And on the smiling mainland, rude shelter,
build for rest
That love will const crate a home in such a
little while.
0 heeiing drelight makes a twilight, sweet
as dawn, OF gloom,
Aud love with tender chastened splendor,
lights the hearts dusk room.
sing Of rustling cornhelds DER which the
breezes blow,
Sing song Of pumpkins, all golden. twixt the
rows
All the sun aud river have coaxed the island
so,
All the wealth Of all her heart she willingly
bestows
o. silver stream the meadows dream, of
heaven, at your signs;
Each wave has brought, a happy thought,
that wears flowers disguise
When the corn began to ripen then the fathers
said
Time it is we went to bring the wives we left
behnd;
Boys You two, must harvest the corn to make
them bread
You must keep thu fire alive, that they some
warmth may find
O home is where the heart is There,
what more can heart desire,
Than just to see the mother rock the child
beside tho fire?
Deep within the wilderness the little clearing
stood,
Fort Halifax was mile away, forlorn and far
off hope,
All alone for weeks with but the denizens of
the wood
Must the two, bide. hand to hand with frost
and fear to cope.
o. Isaac signs as Hannahs ey es in dreams,
make darkness bright,
And Ellis ear can almost hear his mothers
fond good night.
Lonely grew the forest as Autumn faded
quite
All, the song the river sang to cheer the lonely
boys
And when the ice had sienced that voice OF
deep delight,
Then the pines took up the tale of all the
woodland joys.
80, living things" each minstrel sings
the song of all is one.-
"For man or brute or tender shoot, Gods
will shall still be done"
Sing a song OF echoes. afoat upon the wind,
Strokes OF axes with whose sound the frighten-
ed wood was filed.
Sing OF tracks of furry things, so carelessly
outlined
In the first, soft, feathery snow, and trailed by
steps unsklled.
o harkl o hear, with fancy's earl That
sound is lsaac's gun,
For Isaac grew like Nimrod, too, before
the year was done.
j he AnoI nlHB5 "lOte III BtpIy luc pfohlbe VI
the days,
The nights in glory ushered in the lonely
hours of sleep;
Or else the dawns came solemnly, all wrapped
in somber grays,
And night winds roared with glee, the drifts
about the the camp to heap.
o, Eli means. in homesick tones. amidst
his dreaming, "mother"!
But Isaac seems in all his dreams, to seek
in vain,-that other.
o, sing a song OF all the hearts in which their
life blood beats
II all the children of those two, who far and
near are living,
Could meet today, to hear the tale, this ballad
rude repeats
o. there would be q family indeed, to keep
Thanksgiving
Home is where the heart isl There, what
more could we desire,
Than kin and kind with JOY to find beside
glowing fire?
Braver for their bravery and gladder for their
sorrow,
Each OF us legacy of priceless worth receives;
Every seed that's sown today may be a flower
tomorrow,
And the leaves that bud next spring shall feed
on this years leaves.
o, pile the logs, above the dogs and draw
your chairs up higher
We thank you boys, for all the Joys, we
find beside your fire.
LILLIAN CLAYTON SMITH,