. Poems of life in the country. .Then through the soft meadow so lightly she , eager to follow, sank his feet in the sod,Mollie, laughing, called back, O, leave your shoes thereFor when we get home Jim will lend you a pair. Over walls, bogs, and briars she led him with ease,He stumbled and fell, tore his pants from his knees,Mollie then looking back laughed till she criedWhen she saw a tree branch rip his coat off one sideAnd puncture his hat which was caught by the wayHe was trying to save a few clothes in the mind, shouted Molly, when we go home tonightTom will lend y
. Poems of life in the country. .Then through the soft meadow so lightly she , eager to follow, sank his feet in the sod,Mollie, laughing, called back, O, leave your shoes thereFor when we get home Jim will lend you a pair. Over walls, bogs, and briars she led him with ease,He stumbled and fell, tore his pants from his knees,Mollie then looking back laughed till she criedWhen she saw a tree branch rip his coat off one sideAnd puncture his hat which was caught by the wayHe was trying to save a few clothes in the mind, shouted Molly, when we go home tonightTom will lend you some clothes, but theyre not verywhite. Now the pond soon appeared, a most beautiful sight,With lilies a plenty, jusf a scene of delight;He determined to win and get lilies sank in the mud not far from the shore;Mollie called, and the boys with ropes yanked outAll streaked and black, just a ragged dish clout;Then the country crowd cried, Go take the next trainAnd dont dress in white if you come here again. 44. Mollie and the Li]ie<5Photo by De Vault. In Michig^an POEMS FROM LIFES EXPERIENCE A SongBENEATH THE OLD ELM TREE I wandered near the old home Where, in the long lived a happy maiden Who kept my heart aglow;I sat, where oft we lingered. Beneath the old elm tree,And in my memory captured Her voice of rnelody. Her smiling face, enchanting, Drew near, and I could seeHer witching roguish glances, Lovelight bestowed on me,And in my dream I held Her dear warm hand in once more felt the rapture Of love almost divine. Then waking, gazed about me. The night grew dark and cold;Alas! twas but a vision, My days were growing old;With longing I reached backward To grasp those days of yore,—The elm tree branches whispered, Soft whispered, nevermore. 46
Size: 1300px × 1921px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1920, bookpublisherprovi, bookyear1921
