. Poems of life in the country and by the sea . ix-quart pails you used to fill, nothing else would do,Mother wanted them for pies, and twas up to you. In those August days, you know, it was awful hot,Largest berries never grew in a shady spot;So when you were melting fast, tired from the heat,You would break the bushes down, find a shady seat. Underneath those big oak trees, just a mile from school,There youd pick the berries off, feeling nice and cc ol;Then youd go and break some more, bring a big pile back,Dodging thistles here and there and the wasps attack. You would never go alone, all t
. Poems of life in the country and by the sea . ix-quart pails you used to fill, nothing else would do,Mother wanted them for pies, and twas up to you. In those August days, you know, it was awful hot,Largest berries never grew in a shady spot;So when you were melting fast, tired from the heat,You would break the bushes down, find a shady seat. Underneath those big oak trees, just a mile from school,There youd pick the berries off, feeling nice and cc ol;Then youd go and break some more, bring a big pile back,Dodging thistles here and there and the wasps attack. You would never go alone, all the neighbors knewWhere to send their boys and girls, where best berries grew ,So there was a jolly time, every pail was full,When suddenly appeared in sight the farmers angry bull. He bellowed loud and pawed the earth, we scampered towards the wallAnd safelv reached the other side with no one hurt at berries! there they stayed all day, and there they stayed all there, perhaps, theyre staying now if that big bulls in sight. 32. POEMS FROM LIFES EXPERIENCE IN MEMORYS CHAMBER In the chamber of memory are beautiful treasures. Enticing us often to enter its doors;Its pictures are full of the dearest of pleasures, And, O, how we long just to live them once moreHow swift sped the hours,, how bright was the sunlight, How happy the seasons those pictures the veil of the past their radiance glimmers, Like the glow of the sunset when night shadows fall. One canvas, presenting a scene of my childhood, Shows sweet little faces and white slumber clothesEncircling the fireside, whose bright, sparkling embers Discover the darlings just warming their I see.—now the years have grown older, And softly the moonlight its drapery throwsRound a beautiful face, nestling close to my shoulder Enchanting and sweeter than Junes blushing rose. There are moments so precious, they sparkle like dia-monds. There are hours rich as rubies, whose record is thereTher
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