THE OLD MAN DREAMS.

The blackened walnut in its spicy hull

Rots where it fell;

And, in the orchard, where the trees stand full,

The pear's ripe bell

Drops; and the log-house in the bramble lane,

From whose low door

Stretch yellowing acres of the corn and cane,

He sees once more.

The cat-bird sings upon its porch of pine;

And o'er its gate,

All slender-podded, twists the trumpet-vine,

A leafy weight;

And in the woodland, by the spring, mayhap,

With eyes of joy

Again he bends to set a rabbit-trap,

A brown-faced boy.

Then, whistling, through the underbrush he goes,

Out of the wood,

Where, with young cheeks, red as an Autumn rose,

Beneath her hood,

His sweetheart waits, her school-books on her arm;

And now it seems

Beside his chair he sees his wife's fair form —

The old man dreams.