Swazy folks and others; poems . aplenty and for all;So thoughts of home will linger for a bit,Then fade, and we are happier for it. The village street that came a-winding downSince stage coach days, whence gypsies came to town,The fright and fear of children there at play—They stopped to feed then on its creaking caravan went, its white tops showing stillFor miles away, beyond the towring hillThat rose abrupt, obscuring from our eyesThe world beyond and all its glad Old Main Road twas called and, wending , it cleft the little townTo two quaint streets whe
Swazy folks and others; poems . aplenty and for all;So thoughts of home will linger for a bit,Then fade, and we are happier for it. The village street that came a-winding downSince stage coach days, whence gypsies came to town,The fright and fear of children there at play—They stopped to feed then on its creaking caravan went, its white tops showing stillFor miles away, beyond the towring hillThat rose abrupt, obscuring from our eyesThe world beyond and all its glad Old Main Road twas called and, wending , it cleft the little townTo two quaint streets where village merchants where—it seemed—the care free people hivedOn summer days or cheated summer whiled away, and talked, the blessed tinshop here, and there, with cheery ring,The blacksmith toiled and did his part to singThe day away; and stealing oer the clover bloom and fields, the ancient millSent out its song, a crooning soft and low—It sang at work and let the village know;. «j e SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS 147 And yet twas still—the sounds of toil were few—Familiar sounds that all the village knew!Round open doors were grouped the patriarchs,The older men—the group that ever marksThe village life—and talked of other yearsWhen war was rife and all was woe and tears;And oftentimes their fancies, turned to mirth,Some new device, some new-found trick gave birth—By subtle twist their crooked canes made fastRound sunburned legs of freckled boys who passed!The freckled boys who found the path unseenThat led away, through pasture and ravine,To Scoullers Mill where youngsters got their doleOf boyhood fun beside the swimming hole.******* And this was home, where evening stars looked downTheir kindliest and blessed the Old Home Town—The place of dream that we remember yetAnd cherish still and never can forget! 148 SWAZY FOLKS AND OTHERS Friends. TTITHEN Fortune smiled And days were bright, it seemedI had more worthy friends th
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