The Republican journal. [volume] (Belfast, Me.) 1829-current, 1919-09-25
SWANVILLE

SWANVILLE
Hail to the town of Swanville
Situate among the hills
With her sheet of sparkling water!
Laughing brooks and babbling rills
She has many things to boast of,
Although people call her slow,
Der century she's flourished,
And she still will live and grow.
Live on throughout the ages;
AS long as time shall last;
And progression in the future,
Will be greater than in the past.
Years ago they rode on horseback,
Der path marked by spotted trees;
Today, the autos smoothly glide
Ger state roads with perfect ease.
The old gridiron roads have vanished,
That the oxcart ioggled DER,
And the farmer with his auto truck,
Goes banging by our door.
He used to haul his wood out,
And saw and peg away;
But now the gasoline engine,
Does the work in one short day.
If they wished to send message,
In the days of long ago,
A carrier went on horseback,
Which, of course, was rather slow.
Today it goes over the wires
From that instrument on the wall!
We can talk with people anywhere,
If Central" we but call!
We love our little village,
Where freedom and peace abide;
And this stately little building
That stands on the green hillside.
From the summit of the mountain
No grander view is seen!
Y ou gaze on the shining water,
Then to hills and valleys green!
Your thoughts are turning backward
To days long since gone by,
When you roamed these fields and pas
lures,
Wandered meath the moonlit sky.
OF the days as lads and lassies,
When with books you trudged to school,
Where you tried so hard to study
But sometimes broke the rule.
The old schoolhouse has been abandoned
The one called Number Three,
But golden memories of that dear spot
Are treasured by you and me.
Nearly all remember the brickyard;
There, oft in the autumn night,
AS they burned the kiln, you roasted corn
A pleasure, and wonderful sight!
Time of course brings many changes,
This has been abandoned, too,
But the old mill still is running
By man we'll known to you.
We are proud of our sons and daughters
College men of rank and wealth;
Merchants, teachers, and the fair haired
nurse,
And doctors, who give US health,
Our farmers, too, God bless them,
With their wives they daily toll
To SOW and reap the harvest,
Honest tillers of the soil.
We respect our gray-haired soldiers;
The men who wore the blue;
One by one they are swiftly passing;
Their work is nearly through,
But we honor the cause they fought for,
That slavery should not be;
And the North and South stand united,
Under the flag of the free.
Today our thoughts are turning
To the boys in the blue and brown,
| Who responded ''To armsp' so nobly;
Eighteen from this little town,
| Those who sailed across the ocean,
And with the Allies fought,
In that war 'gainst cruel nation,
By the hand of the Devil wrought
Those who spent their time in training,
But did not cross the blue,
Worked hard enough to get there,
And they served their country too.
| They have nearly all come homeward;
Some, perhaps, sail on the deep;
And the stalwart one who left US,
In Flanders Field doth sleep.
We miss those who've gone forever,
And the friends who've moved away
! But still we struggle onward,
Keep striving from day to day.
May the rising generation
Be as loyal to the town,
| AS the noble men and women
Who have laid their burdens down.
And passed to that fair country,
Where the streets are paved with gold
And where we shall all be gathered,
When another century's rolled.
And in closing, God be with you;
We shall part-perhapS Tor aye
But we won't forget dear Swanville,
And our meeting this glad day.
CELIA MABEL NICKERSON