I went to live with Susan, but Susan's house was small,
And she was always a-hintin' how snug it was for us all;
And what with her husband's sisters, and what with child'rn three,
'Twas easy to discover that there wasn't room for me.
An' then I went to Thomas, the oldest son I've got,
For Thomas's buildings'd cover the half of an acre lot;
But all the child'rn was on me--I couldn't stand their sauce--
And Thomas said I needn't think I was comin' there to boss.
An' then I wrote to Rebecca, my girl who lives out West,
And to Isaac, not far from her--some twenty miles at best;
And one of 'em said 'twas too warm there for any one so old,
And t' other had an opinion the climate was too cold.
So they have shirked and slighted me, an' shifted me about--
So they have well-nigh soured me, an' wore my old heart out;
But still I've borne up pretty well, an' wasn't much put down,
Till Charley went to the poor-master, an' put me on the town.
Over the hill to the poor-house--my child'rn dear, good by!
Many a night I've watched you when only God was nigh;
And God'll judge between us; but I will al'ays pray
That you shall never suffer the half I do to-day.
WILL CARLETON.
OLD.
By the wayside, on a mossy stone,
Sat a hoary pilgrim, sadly musing;
Oft I marked him sitting there alone.
All the landscape, like a page perusing;
Poor, unknown,
By the wayside, on a mossy stone.
Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-brimmed hat;
Coat as ancient as the form 'twas folding;
Silver buttons, queue, and crimped cravat;
Oaken staff his feeble hand upholding;
There he sat!
Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-brimmed hat.
Pages:
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139