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Verses-Frank H. Craig · Sergeant York and His People

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Speaker 1: Section one of Verses. This is a LibriVox recording. All
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Speaker 1: LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information
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Speaker 1: or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Read by
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Speaker 1: Marianne verses by Frank H. Craig. Home, though it be
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Speaker 1: in tropic region or in Greenland's icy clime, love for
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Speaker 1: home and fireside ever stands the test of time, old friends.
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Speaker 1: Last night I sat in my easy chair, and my
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Speaker 1: thoughts went back to you. I dreamed of days of
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Speaker 1: long ago, and of friendships tried and true. In my dreams,
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Speaker 1: I saw the beauty that nature unfolds in the spring.
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Speaker 1: I heard in the trees of summer, the most musical
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Speaker 1: birds that sing. But neither the song of bird nor
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Speaker 1: beauty that nature sends can fill the place in my
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Speaker 1: heart that belongs to my old time friends. Years may
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Speaker 1: come and years may go. Things of the earth may
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Speaker 1: pass away, but courage will to the end endure, if
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Speaker 1: only our friends will stay. In June. Listen to the
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Speaker 1: mocking bird neath a sky so clear and blue. Hearken
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Speaker 1: to the robin's note. Hear the wood thrush calling too,
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Speaker 1: through a grove of leafy trees, spruce and beach on
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Speaker 1: either side flows the noisy, winding river like a thread
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Speaker 1: of silver wide. The herd boy down the dewey lane,
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Speaker 1: drives the browsing cow along, and his merry whistled tune
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Speaker 1: mocks the bird in its morning song. All nature is
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Speaker 1: rejoicing this early morning in June. The herd boy and
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Speaker 1: the songsters are fully with nature in tune. Tis ever. Thus,
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Speaker 1: where air man may be, with smiling lips and steady heart,
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Speaker 1: he finds enjoyment everywhere. If plays he well an honest part.
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Speaker 1: The wood chopper. It is winter in the forest, and
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Speaker 1: the dusk that follows day has come to meet the
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Speaker 1: hillsides with banks of sober gray. A night bird's cry
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Speaker 1: is heard from out the darkened sky. The screech owl
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Speaker 1: calls his mate mong maples, stark and high. A chopper
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Speaker 1: from his labors a down the path is coming a
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Speaker 1: song of home and fireside. His bearded lips are humming
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Speaker 1: through fallen snow that covers the moss embedded ground. The
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Speaker 1: chopper's footsteps hurry with crinkle crackle sound. He hears no
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Speaker 1: call of cowbell. His stock is in the fold. The
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Speaker 1: light from out his fireplace gleams like the purest gold.
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Speaker 1: His supper, hot and steaming, is spread upon the table.
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Speaker 1: No rich man's fair is this, No fashion marks its label,
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Speaker 1: and humble though it be, this chopper's lowly cot. No
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Speaker 1: nobler habitation with riches can be bought. For tis home
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Speaker 1: and home alone, whether mansion, tent or cot, that makes
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Speaker 1: a man forever contented with his lot. Our trees. Had
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Speaker 1: I the tongue of a poet, I would sing of
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Speaker 1: our beautiful trees, from the maples of Old Vermont to
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Speaker 1: the redwoods facing the seas, I would sing of the
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Speaker 1: wondrous beauty of forested valley and glen, of the love
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Speaker 1: for forests and flowers implanted in the hearts of men.
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Speaker 1: I would sing of birds in the forest, whose homes
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Speaker 1: are built in the shade of those melodious songsters for
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Speaker 1: whom the tree tops were made. I would sing of
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Speaker 1: progress and wealth that comes from the wood of the tree,
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Speaker 1: of what it has done for man in making a
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Speaker 1: land that is free. My song would ever encourage the
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Speaker 1: planting of forest and tree, for thus is conserved our resources.
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Speaker 1: The states and the nation agree. End of section one,
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Speaker 1: Section two of verses by Frank H. Craig This LibriVox
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Speaker 1: recording is in the public domain. Read of by Mirianne
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Speaker 1: The schoolboy. I know a schoolboy whose liking for school
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Speaker 1: know whether at zero his ardor can cool tis school time?
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Speaker 1: He cries, then hurries away, for comrades at school are
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Speaker 1: shouting in play. As eager as any. This schoolboy of
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Speaker 1: ours for skating or shinney at all times and hours,
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Speaker 1: but games he will stay till lessons are done. For tis.
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Speaker 1: In this way life's battles are won. Good luck to
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Speaker 1: this boy so eager for school that nothing whatever his
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Speaker 1: ardor can cool. More about corn. I like corn bread
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Speaker 1: and butter, said little Johnny Zinc. As long as I
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Speaker 1: can have it, I'll be a happy gink. One other
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Speaker 1: thing I like, said he, and that is corn and milk.
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Speaker 1: I'd rather have a bowlful than wear a coked of silk.
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Speaker 1: I like corn pudding, too, said he, that's cooked above
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Speaker 1: a fire. Who says it's good for nothing such as
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Speaker 1: a tarnal lyre, It's me, said he can eat a
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Speaker 1: whole big Johnny cake and not a single grumble. Will
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Speaker 1: Little Johnny make? This Johnny in the winter, with all
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Speaker 1: his cribbing done, began to think of Sally Jones, twas
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Speaker 1: her he'd almost one from out of his ears of corn.
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Speaker 1: He chose the reddest one, then hide himself to Jones's,
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Speaker 1: and there the job was done. And now this Johnny
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Speaker 1: Zinc who raises corn to eat, has one to cook
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Speaker 1: his corn that never can be beat. The Narcissus, beautiful
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Speaker 1: child of the star land. Deep in the mold, you thrive,
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Speaker 1: taking from earth and from air the strength which keeps
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Speaker 1: you alive. Up from your bosom in may time springs
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Speaker 1: a blossom of purest white, which gives to the world
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Speaker 1: a beauty that hallows both day and night. To your
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Speaker 1: crown of crimson and gold, which resembles the Holy Grail
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Speaker 1: troopand numbers the insect world. From forest, from hill and dale,
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Speaker 1: they take their fill of the nectar from your cup
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Speaker 1: of purest gold, and leave for the children of men
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Speaker 1: a wealth of fragrance. Untold the Blacksmith. The village Smithy
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Speaker 1: stands in a hollow among the hills. Sturdy is its
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Speaker 1: roof tree, and staunch its wooden sills. Wide open stands
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Speaker 1: its door where enters one and all. No rival has
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Speaker 1: the blacksmith among those who on him call. He shoes
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Speaker 1: the ox or horse. Then men's a wagon wheel, and
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Speaker 1: Otto stands awaiting its gas pipe to a kneel. All
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Speaker 1: day the blacksmith works with sooty hands and face to him,
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Speaker 1: this man of labor, the grime has no disgrace. And
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Speaker 1: when the day is done and the air is growing chill,
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Speaker 1: he takes the forest pathway to his home upon the hill,
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Speaker 1: And humble though it be, this toiler's hillside, caught a
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Speaker 1: happy home, has he contentment? Is his lot? A faded flower,
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Speaker 1: only a faded flower lying between two leaves, souvenir from
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Speaker 1: a little friend, for whom my heart still grieves. A
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Speaker 1: dainty creature, she with hearts so light and free, more
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Speaker 1: like a graceful fawn. She tripped along with me down
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Speaker 1: the lane we wandered, myself once more a child, mild
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Speaker 1: the June day breezes, and sweet the roses wild. I
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Speaker 1: hear her gentle prattle. Why are the roses red? And
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Speaker 1: where do little girls go? When snugly tucked in bed,
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Speaker 1: her nimble fingers plucked one rose beneath a tree with
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Speaker 1: cheeks that rivaled roses, She handed it to me. Long
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Speaker 1: years has she been gone, but still her hand I feel,
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Speaker 1: and the odor of that rose still to my senses.
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Speaker 1: Deal end of section two, section three of verses by
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Speaker 1: Frank H. Craig. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
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Speaker 1: Read by Marianne. Sing to me, Sing to me a
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Speaker 1: song of cheer, on these cold December days, when the
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Speaker 1: snow lies on the ground, under clouds and slanting rays.
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Speaker 1: Sing of days in Bethlehem, and of one who therein
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Speaker 1: lay mung the cattle in a manger on that olden
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Speaker 1: Christmas day. Sing of her that mother, too, gentle as
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Speaker 1: a brooding dove, on whose face there shone all that
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Speaker 1: marks a holy love. Sing of brave men, tried and true,
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Speaker 1: lying under fields of snow, of those others over there
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Speaker 1: where the fields of poppies grow. Sing to me of
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Speaker 1: deeds of kindness that are done throughout the year. Let
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Speaker 1: the bells ring out the story, so that all the
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Speaker 1: world may hear. Sing to me of loving friendships and
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Speaker 1: of hand clasps firm and strong. May we reap in
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Speaker 1: fullest measure from the merry Christmas song. Snowflakes all day long,
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Speaker 1: since early morning, the silent flakes of snow have dropped
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Speaker 1: from out a leaden sky a steady, ceaseless flow. They
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Speaker 1: build the snow drift higher that lies along the ground.
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Speaker 1: They cover deep the old stone walls till not a
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Speaker 1: one is found, no wind from out of east or
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Speaker 1: west to move a branch of tree. Heaped high, the
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Speaker 1: snow on every bush as far as eye can see.
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Speaker 1: They mix the green with white in pine tree and
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Speaker 1: the spruce such splendid starry crystals no other climes produce.
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Speaker 1: They cover path, They cover road till every trace is lost.
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Speaker 1: They little care, nor little heed the wealth they will exhaust.
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Speaker 1: Yet the beauty and the pastimes that the snowflakes ever
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Speaker 1: bring give to us the greatest pleasure till the coming
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Speaker 1: of the spring. The farmer before the open grate, he
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Speaker 1: sits and watches the embers glow outside, the winds of
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Speaker 1: winter drift high the frozen snow. Content is he this farmer,
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Speaker 1: For done is the work to day, His family at
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Speaker 1: his fireside, his children at their play, his cattles snugly sheltered.
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Speaker 1: The season's work is done. His toil throughout the summer,
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Speaker 1: a competence has won, heaped high the lean to shed
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Speaker 1: with naught with stick and splinter, whose captive heat and
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Speaker 1: ruddy glow defy the blasts of winter. He craves those
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Speaker 1: pleasures not that city wise are sent for His family
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Speaker 1: and his farm make up his hearts content. The north wind,
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Speaker 1: I am the wind of winter. I come from the
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Speaker 1: land of snows. I've seen the mighty iceberg. I've heard
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Speaker 1: the grinding flows beyond the Arctic circle. I saw the
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Speaker 1: polar bear, the silver fox I followed to the shelter
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Speaker 1: of his lair on Greenland's icy plain. I saw the
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Speaker 1: sturdy deer. I heard the howling wolf pack that fills
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Speaker 1: the night with fear. I saw the flash of snow
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Speaker 1: bird darting across the sky along the rocky coast line.
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Speaker 1: I heard the fulmer's cry. I bring to plain and
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Speaker 1: valley the cold of zero weather. I bind with ice,
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Speaker 1: fetters and many streams together. I am the storm King's minion.
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Speaker 1: For nearly half the year, I sting, I whip, I
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Speaker 1: bluster till summer days appear. The winter elves, the gold
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Speaker 1: of the leaves, the blue of the sky, the honk
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Speaker 1: of the geese as southward they fly tell us that autumn,
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Speaker 1: with its wealth untold, is with us again, as in
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Speaker 1: days of old with trace of frost work. It proclaims
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Speaker 1: its sway and sends the winter elves a riding this
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Speaker 1: way elf folk that delight in tweaking the nose and
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Speaker 1: everything else, including the toes. In fancy we see them
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Speaker 1: come trooping along old Elf and young Elf with dance
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Speaker 1: and with song. They dance at midnight in the forest
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Speaker 1: glade beside the burrel that the rabbit made. They loop
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Speaker 1: the fireflies with streamers of gold and drive them tandem
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Speaker 1: with rapture. Untold tis fun for the elves throughout the
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Speaker 1: long night, till the rising sun provokes them to flight. Then,
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Speaker 1: tired and sleepy and cross are the elves who hunt
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Speaker 1: some dark place where they hide themselves. For only at
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Speaker 1: night can these elves be seen, when the moon floods
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Speaker 1: all with its silvery sheen. And to section three a
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Speaker 1: section four of verses by Frank H. Craig. This LibriVox
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Speaker 1: recording is in the public domain. Repy Marian Fall. There's
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Speaker 1: a tide in the life of man when the work
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Speaker 1: of the season is done, When the rewards for trials
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Speaker 1: and toil have been gathered one by one, his strength
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Speaker 1: and his youth are gone. They like the leaves in
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Speaker 1: the fall have loosed their hold on the twig. No
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Speaker 1: more will they strive at all. But Man, like the
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Speaker 1: leaves of the forest, has gathered the season gold. By
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Speaker 1: his deeds of kindness to others, he is richer one hundredfold.
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Speaker 1: He has learned, as all must learn as we near
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Speaker 1: the parting of ways, that this helping one another is
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Speaker 1: the only thing that pays. We need not fear the future. Then,
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Speaker 1: while watching our leaves to fall, for we know that
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Speaker 1: a loving hand cares for the leaves and for all memories.
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Speaker 1: From a corner of my garret comes a book that's
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Speaker 1: badly worn fifty years. The dust has gathered on its pages,
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Speaker 1: creased and torn. As I turn its musty pages in
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Speaker 1: electric's magic glow, comes a picture, faintly stealing of those
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Speaker 1: days of long ago, when upon the old school desk
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Speaker 1: lay this book with covers blue, and my days were
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Speaker 1: spent in conning word by word its lessons. Through well
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Speaker 1: remembered days were those bright the meadow flowers grew word,
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Speaker 1: the wings of ruffled grouse high in air, the wild
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Speaker 1: geese blew sweat of brow, and daily toil clarified. The
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Speaker 1: brain of man filled his heart overflowing as no modern
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Speaker 1: pleasure can. Then the children gathered nightly round the fireside,
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Speaker 1: one by one. Pleasant was the home to them when
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Speaker 1: their daily tasks were done. Daybreak on the farm tis
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Speaker 1: daybreak on the farm, and from the stairway door comes
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Speaker 1: time to get up. Boys. It's four o'clock or more.
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Speaker 1: Down the stairs. We hurry, rubbing our sleepy eyes, kick
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Speaker 1: on boots of leather with many gusty sighs. One to
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Speaker 1: the barnyard, hurries to milk the waiting kind, another to
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Speaker 1: the corn crib to feed the noisy swine. The horses,
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Speaker 1: wide awake, are stamping in their stalls for early morning rations.
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Speaker 1: Each winny loudly calls good measure, quickly given of corn,
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Speaker 1: of oats and hay. In some way on the farm
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Speaker 1: there is no time for play. Each collar freed from dirt,
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Speaker 1: each harness buckled on, the brimming pails of milk have
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Speaker 1: to the cellar. Gone, The chores are done. At last,
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Speaker 1: the breakfast call is heard to hungry girls and boys.
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Speaker 1: Most welcome is the word. Those days have passed for us.
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Speaker 1: No more they cause alarm, For early calls are band
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Speaker 1: on our rocky hillside farm. Winter beauty. I love the
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Speaker 1: wondrous beauty of these eastern hills at night, when the
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Speaker 1: snow upon the ground sparkles with a spectral light, when
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Speaker 1: the watchful partridge and the frisky squirrel, red snug and
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Speaker 1: deeply buried lie in a warm but wintry bed, when
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Speaker 1: the birch tree and the maple darkened branches clearly show,
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Speaker 1: and the spruce tree and the pine downward bend beneath
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Speaker 1: the snow, when the sky or wooded slopes seldom shows
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Speaker 1: a cloud in sight, and the stars above are hidden
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Speaker 1: by the greater orb of night, When the runner of
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Speaker 1: the sled crunches through the icy snow, and the fingers
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Speaker 1: sting and tingle with old winter's fiery glow. Do you
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Speaker 1: know that many people would enjoy the wondrous sight of
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Speaker 1: these snow clad hills On an eastern winter night, the songster,
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Speaker 1: a jolly brown thrush, high up in a tree, is
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Speaker 1: singing a song that is music for me. Happy royster,
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Speaker 1: is he, this song bird of mine who wakes with
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Speaker 1: the sun on these mornings so fine? Swinging high on
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Speaker 1: a branch of the old apple tree. He breaks forth
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Speaker 1: in song for he's happy and free. The cherries are gone,
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Speaker 1: But the berries I fear, will tempt his bright eyes
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Speaker 1: in my garden so near. But why should I care?
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Speaker 1: If with my fruit he makes free, while he pays
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Speaker 1: with the songs that are music to me and of
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Speaker 1: section four, section five of verses by Frank H. Craig.
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Speaker 1: This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by
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Speaker 1: Marianne Boyhood Memories. My mind reverts to the farm where
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Speaker 1: I lived when I was a boy, when the days
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Speaker 1: were ever pleasant, and my heart was full of joy,
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Speaker 1: up with the lark in the morning, at work in
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Speaker 1: the dewy air well. I remember those days. Was there
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Speaker 1: ever a world so fair? Then? Was a time for visions?
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Speaker 1: For the future was all before my mind, Like the
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Speaker 1: golden eagle in the blue of the sky would soar.
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Speaker 1: Life passes, but slowly in youth, whether of city or farm,
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Speaker 1: and those boyish dreams of mine lost something of glow
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Speaker 1: and charm. But the pleasure of field and farm still lingers,
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Speaker 1: and after glow of the joys of my early boyhood
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Speaker 1: in those days of long ago, the homemade apple pie.
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Speaker 1: Boyhood days have passed away like clouds across the sky.
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Speaker 1: Yet still can we remember the homemade apple pie, scalloped
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Speaker 1: at the edges. The crusts were ever thin, one above
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Speaker 1: and one below, chuck full of fruit, within a pinch
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Speaker 1: of spicy nutmeg, a white and flaky crust. A pie
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Speaker 1: that any boy could eat, and one that he could trust.
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Speaker 1: No quarter, no nor any half. Was then enough for me.
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Speaker 1: Why pies were ever cut at all was more than
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Speaker 1: I could see. Though there were other pies with ratings
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Speaker 1: very high, the one that suits me best is the
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Speaker 1: homemade apple pie. Autumn. The leaves are changing their colors.
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Speaker 1: The season is passing along in forest, in meadow and stubble.
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Speaker 1: The cricket is singing his song. The birds of wood
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Speaker 1: and a field are bidding the north goodbye. They know
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Speaker 1: as well as we do that soon the snows will fly.
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Speaker 1: The farmer has gathered his corn, His wood is piled
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Speaker 1: for the year. Potatoes are boxed in the cellar. The
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Speaker 1: leaves in the meadow are sere. The summer has passed
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Speaker 1: so quickly we know not whence it has gone. Tis
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Speaker 1: ever thus for the worker that the seasons hurry on.
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Speaker 1: But man is surely rewarded when the work of the
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Speaker 1: year is done. If his toil throughout the summer, a
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Speaker 1: harvest of plenty has won the two stars. In the
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Speaker 1: eastern sky, A star shines bright, as shown that star
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Speaker 1: on Christmas night, when the shepherds watched from the barren
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Speaker 1: hills near Bethlehem, mid rocks and rills. That star looked
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Speaker 1: down on a lowly bed, on a stable old, where
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Speaker 1: the oxen fed under that star on a Christmas night
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Speaker 1: was born the Prince of Truth and right. Our star
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Speaker 1: looks down on a troubled world where greed is written
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Speaker 1: on the flag unfurled. But the saving grace from that
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Speaker 1: Christmas night will triumph at last for truth and for right.
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Speaker 1: The sparrow, little brown Bertie. They say that you're bad.
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Speaker 1: I wonder if they know what a time you've had.
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Speaker 1: Would man in your place, all hands against him, act
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Speaker 1: better than you do, be any the less grim. In
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Speaker 1: summer you're hot, and in winter you're cold. Why surprised
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Speaker 1: should we be that you're naughty and bold? They say
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Speaker 1: that you harm other birds on the nest. Are they
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Speaker 1: sure you are worse than are some of the rest?
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Speaker 1: That you turn things awry? We all know to be true.
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Speaker 1: But think of the good things that can be said
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Speaker 1: about you? You cling to your friends, and you stand
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Speaker 1: up for self? Is that so unnatural? Vi It man,
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Speaker 1: bird or elf? And do not the hands that care
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Speaker 1: for us all take heed of the least of you
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Speaker 1: sparrows that fall end of section five, section six of
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Speaker 1: verses by Frank H. Craig. The sliprivox recording is in
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Speaker 1: the public domain. Read by Marianne, December twenty eighth, nineteen
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Speaker 1: twenty four. Not a twig of tree is stirring straight.
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Speaker 1: The snowflakes gently fall from a sky of leaden color
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Speaker 1: through the tree tops, grim and tall, giving to each
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Speaker 1: hill and valley warmest coat of purest white that will
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Speaker 1: cover wood folk children with a darkness like the night
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Speaker 1: shut In darkness is the woodchuck, So is squirrel in
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Speaker 1: his den. In the snow, protected partridge has no fear
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Speaker 1: of storm tied men. Nature's buds and nature's flowers in
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Speaker 1: the flinty earth below are protected and are nourished by
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Speaker 1: these wintry flakes of snow. Beauty giving flakes, are they
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Speaker 1: gently settling as a dove to mankind. They will symbolize
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Speaker 1: purity and nature's love some days, some days are dark
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Speaker 1: and stormy. No ray of light breaks through but could
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Speaker 1: we see beyond the clouds, we'd find the skies still blue.
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Speaker 1: We'd find above those storm clouds low a sun that's
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Speaker 1: brightly shining, and that the darkest cloud of all still
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Speaker 1: has a silver lining. Tis Thus at times in lives
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Speaker 1: of men, as at their tasks they go, that life
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Speaker 1: seems dark and dreary as storm clouds hanging low. But
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Speaker 1: faith in the heart of man brightens the day's declining,
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Speaker 1: as the sun in the sky above silvers the storm
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Speaker 1: clouds lining. Hapatica blue as the sky is above. It
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Speaker 1: catches the searcher's eye as it clings to the rocky
24:09
Speaker 1: bluff above, where the snow banks lie from a mass
24:13
Speaker 1: of mottled leaves as warm as a squirrel's nest. This
24:17
Speaker 1: early flower of spring, triumphant, leads the rest. First is
24:22
Speaker 1: it of flowers, gay to lure the drowsy bees, and
24:25
Speaker 1: first to shed a fragrance among the barren trees. Other
24:29
Speaker 1: flowers are pleasing in spring, in summer and fall. But
24:34
Speaker 1: for the lover of nature, Hepatica rivals them all. The catbird.
24:42
Speaker 1: The catbird calls from out the tree. His home is close.
24:46
Speaker 1: He's watching me. Hidden somewhere a grass lined nest. His
24:51
Speaker 1: mate is there. He does the rest, He brings the worm,
24:55
Speaker 1: he scolds the dog, while sheets. It still just like
24:58
Speaker 1: a log. But in the nest. If one could see
25:01
Speaker 1: some birdies are one, two and three? What is it
25:06
Speaker 1: for this catbird's nest? These daily tasks and all the
25:10
Speaker 1: rest a hidden page to you and me, whose blinded
25:14
Speaker 1: eyes may sometimes see. School days. To the class of
25:21
Speaker 1: nineteen twenty five, Happy school days at Naponset Fast. Those
25:27
Speaker 1: days have slipped away, But the lessons that you've learned
25:31
Speaker 1: will with you forever stay fundamentals there were taught by
25:35
Speaker 1: your teachers day by day. Truth and right have been
25:39
Speaker 1: their aims. From their teachings. Never stray friendships made in
25:43
Speaker 1: class and schoolroom thoughts of tasks you've overcome, ought to
25:48
Speaker 1: fill your hearts with gladness through many years to come back.
25:51
Speaker 1: You'll look from man's estate to this work you now complete.
25:56
Speaker 1: Then the thoughts that come to you will be filled
25:59
Speaker 1: with incense. Happy days, these days of youth, when the
26:04
Speaker 1: world is all before, when the wealth of all the
26:07
Speaker 1: ages lies before you to explore. End of section six,
26:18
Speaker 1: Section seven of verses by Frank H. Craig. The slip fox.
26:22
Speaker 1: Recording is in the public domain. Read by Mirian the chickadee.
26:29
Speaker 1: There's a snow flecked birdie that comes down to my door,
26:32
Speaker 1: singing chickadee. Edtis his song? Or and or he picks
26:37
Speaker 1: up the crumbs that I scatter for him, or drinks
26:40
Speaker 1: from the basin that's full to the rim. He may
26:42
Speaker 1: hold a big crumb with his little black feet while
26:45
Speaker 1: he picks off a mouthful, which he hurries to eat,
26:48
Speaker 1: where again he may take a big piece in his bill,
26:51
Speaker 1: then fly away quickly to a tree on the hill.
26:54
Speaker 1: I love this wee bird and his songs. Manifold pay
26:58
Speaker 1: for all that he eats. While the weather is cold.
27:04
Speaker 1: Laddie Boy, a little lad, a lad of five, with
27:08
Speaker 1: toes so bare and brown, is standing by the fireside,
27:12
Speaker 1: arrayed in spotless gown. This laddie boy, so small, is
27:16
Speaker 1: ready for his bed. There Soon the downy pillow will
27:20
Speaker 1: rest his tired head. But Laddie Boy is lonely for
27:24
Speaker 1: his mother's far away. No more her arms unfold him,
27:27
Speaker 1: no more she hears him pray. Yet sometimes Laddie thinks
27:31
Speaker 1: that mother's voice he hears, and in his dreams at night,
27:34
Speaker 1: her loving face appears dear, lonesome little lad. His mother's
27:39
Speaker 1: arms he misses, but most of all he longs for
27:43
Speaker 1: that mother's bedtime kisses. Old Chum, Old chum. Do you
27:51
Speaker 1: remember when you and I were boys? How closely interwoven
27:56
Speaker 1: are actions, thoughts and joys? Our homes were together? A
28:01
Speaker 1: path across the way. The friendship there begun has never
28:04
Speaker 1: passed away. We found the reddest cherries. We'd snitched some
28:09
Speaker 1: apples too. We mounted high the robin tree to find
28:12
Speaker 1: its eggs of blue. We trode a country roadside upon
28:16
Speaker 1: our way to school, we waded deep in summer, in
28:19
Speaker 1: muddy brook and pool. Do you remember surely that school
28:24
Speaker 1: room's dusty floor, the rush we made at noontime throughout
28:27
Speaker 1: its battered door. Nor have you yet forgotten, though it
28:31
Speaker 1: may cause you gloom, how often we were standing in
28:34
Speaker 1: some corner of that room. The neighbors said we two
28:39
Speaker 1: were birds alike in feather, and well we filled the saying,
28:43
Speaker 1: for we surely flocked together. Those times had passed away.
28:48
Speaker 1: We've grown much more sedate, but time can never fully
28:52
Speaker 1: those days obliterate. On Woodman Hill, winsome lass, a lass
29:01
Speaker 1: of ten with cheeks of healthy brown is outwas led
29:05
Speaker 1: on Woodman Hill above the river town. She COEs adown
29:09
Speaker 1: the winding road through frost and winter air to braids
29:14
Speaker 1: stream out behind her of silky golden hair. She skims
29:18
Speaker 1: the ouce bound roadbed like birds upon the wing, the
29:22
Speaker 1: hiss like crunch of runners throughout the stillness, ring Before
29:27
Speaker 1: the ancient bridge is reached, where swift the river flows.
29:30
Speaker 1: Her cheeks of brown are taken on the color of
29:32
Speaker 1: the rose, oh winsome lass on Woodman Hill. These days
29:37
Speaker 1: of youth will pass the youthful pleasures of today. No
29:41
Speaker 1: others can surpass my garden. I like to plant a garden,
29:51
Speaker 1: no matter where it be, to care for it, to
29:54
Speaker 1: water it. It's much of fun for me to see a
29:58
Speaker 1: baby seedling put forth a tiny sp route fills me
30:01
Speaker 1: with a rapture that truly is devout. I love to
30:05
Speaker 1: see my garden a sparkle in the dew, bright jewels
30:08
Speaker 1: of the sun that morn by morn renew. I like
30:11
Speaker 1: to see my garden grow up from tiny seeds, to
30:15
Speaker 1: shelter it and water it, to pull its noisome weeds,
30:19
Speaker 1: and when that garden ripens with fruit of every kind,
30:23
Speaker 1: I'm as proud an owner as one can ever find.
30:27
Speaker 1: End of section seven, Section eight of verses by Frank H. Craig.
30:38
Speaker 1: This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Red by
30:40
Speaker 1: Mirianne twenty below. There's frost upon the window. There's frost
30:47
Speaker 1: in the morning air. It tingles toes and fingers while
30:51
Speaker 1: coming down the stair. But decked our kitchen windows with
30:54
Speaker 1: silver ferns and leaves. Among them hang the icicles stalagmites
30:59
Speaker 1: from the eaves. Outside. The waning moonlight reflects from frozen
31:03
Speaker 1: snow a million sparkling diamonds that brightly come and go.
31:08
Speaker 1: The river in its channel is held with bands of ice,
31:11
Speaker 1: its noisy running waters no more the birds entice, the
31:15
Speaker 1: squirrel and the partridge are buried in the snow. Tis
31:19
Speaker 1: Nature's wise provision for her children. Here below, a tinge
31:23
Speaker 1: of red across the sky proclaims the coming day twill
31:26
Speaker 1: turn the silver into gold and drive the frost away.
31:33
Speaker 1: Tell it with wood from the eastern main to the
31:38
Speaker 1: western seas. Tell it with wood from our forest trees. Ay,
31:43
Speaker 1: tell it with wood, the strongest and best that money
31:47
Speaker 1: can buy in the east or the west. Preserve and
31:50
Speaker 1: conserve the wood clad hills, their shaded nooks, their silvery rills.
31:56
Speaker 1: For forest and hill were a gift to man, a
31:59
Speaker 1: wonderful gift in a wonderful plan. The great Storm November third,
32:08
Speaker 1: nineteen twenty seven, November clouds hang low, no sign of
32:14
Speaker 1: eastern sun for thirty hours and more. The storm its
32:18
Speaker 1: race has run. The hillside brook becomes a river in
32:22
Speaker 1: the night. Its foaming cataracts a wondrous pretty sight. No
32:28
Speaker 1: bank can hold the river Man's tiny force. It mocks,
32:32
Speaker 1: It sweeps with thunder noise, one rock against other rocks.
32:36
Speaker 1: It cuts new water channels and batters down the bridges.
32:40
Speaker 1: It takes its own detritus and heaps it into ridges.
32:44
Speaker 1: Two faced. The storm king is. He may be good
32:48
Speaker 1: or bad, but we prefer him always when good, not
32:52
Speaker 1: when he's mad. John Horse, John Horse was once a
32:59
Speaker 1: cold that spent its time in play or fed on
33:02
Speaker 1: hillside meadows. Throughout the summer day. John feared no cold
33:07
Speaker 1: in winter. His master was his joy. John followed him
33:10
Speaker 1: about this life he did enjoy. In youth. John's loving
33:15
Speaker 1: master grew up to man's estate. The coldish Johnny Horse
33:19
Speaker 1: took on some added weight for them no more. The
33:22
Speaker 1: days were spent in idle play. Such days for both
33:25
Speaker 1: of them forever passed away. The youth became a doctor,
33:29
Speaker 1: a doctor kind and true. Many were the snow drifts
33:33
Speaker 1: that Johnny took him through. Long years of service done
33:37
Speaker 1: while seasons passed away, long days of steady work, while
33:41
Speaker 1: both were turning gray. The people loved the doctor, this
33:45
Speaker 1: doctor tried and true. But let us not forget that
33:49
Speaker 1: Johnny loved him too. The stranger, a stranger, old and weary,
33:59
Speaker 1: is slowly making his way through darkness and the storm
34:02
Speaker 1: at the close of a winter day. Torn and old
34:06
Speaker 1: is his clothing, his hair is wet with the snow.
34:10
Speaker 1: Lost and alone in the valley, he knows of no
34:12
Speaker 1: place to go through the gently falling snow. The light
34:16
Speaker 1: of a candle shines from a cabin on the hillside
34:20
Speaker 1: below the snow covered pines. He follows the candle's gleam
34:24
Speaker 1: and feebly knocks at the door. Shelter and food he
34:27
Speaker 1: humbly craves, then drops to the log hewn floor. Kind
34:32
Speaker 1: hands minister quickly to the needs of this aged one.
34:35
Speaker 1: They care for him as gently as they would for
34:38
Speaker 1: an airing sun. When morning came to the cabin, and
34:41
Speaker 1: sun through the window shone surprise came to the cottagers,
34:45
Speaker 1: a delight before unknown. For on the stand by the bedside,
34:49
Speaker 1: where had lain the stranger frail, there stood in all
34:52
Speaker 1: its splendor, that holly of cups, the grail and a
34:59
Speaker 1: section eight, section nine of verses by Frank H. Craig.
35:09
Speaker 1: This LibriVox recording is in public domain. Red by Mirian.
35:14
Speaker 1: Our maples in the spring, when life is waking under
35:18
Speaker 1: drifts of wintry snow, then our grand old maples waken
35:22
Speaker 1: and their sap begins to flow among the pine trees
35:25
Speaker 1: of the forest, whereas heard the partridge call, flaunt these
35:29
Speaker 1: trees a wondrous beauty from the late spring through the fall.
35:33
Speaker 1: Deep their roots have taken hold of the moss covered
35:36
Speaker 1: stony ledge, and they stand with spreading arms in beyond
35:40
Speaker 1: its flint like edge. Themes are they for pen and artists.
35:45
Speaker 1: In October's rosy glow, when the hills are brightly decked
35:49
Speaker 1: as no other lands can know stand they firm in
35:53
Speaker 1: winter season like the watchmen on the Rhine to Vermont.
35:57
Speaker 1: They represent greater wealth than flock or mind. Woodmen spare
36:02
Speaker 1: are sugar maples. Let them stand on hillside slope. For
36:06
Speaker 1: these trees, so strong and hardy, give to farming greater
36:10
Speaker 1: scope among the hills. Not soon shall I forget this
36:17
Speaker 1: climb among the hills, the azure skies above me, the
36:21
Speaker 1: nearer sound of rills. There comes upon the air the
36:25
Speaker 1: song of warbling bird. It echoes among the hills. None
36:29
Speaker 1: sweeter ever heard that snow clad line afar the distant
36:34
Speaker 1: ranges mark The trees upon their slopes are densely mast
36:38
Speaker 1: and dark. Below me lies a valley, and there a
36:41
Speaker 1: winding stream. It sparkles in the sunlight with many a
36:45
Speaker 1: dancing gleam. There's beauty in the valley, with its cattle
36:49
Speaker 1: and its crops. But the beauty of the hills is
36:52
Speaker 1: seen from on their tops shadows. When evening hums and
37:00
Speaker 1: the night shuts out the light of day, one by
37:03
Speaker 1: one the stars come out to drive the gloom away.
37:07
Speaker 1: Even when the clouds hang lowest with darkness like the night,
37:11
Speaker 1: Somewhere above these clouds the sun is shining bright. A
37:15
Speaker 1: storm may sometimes mar a lovely rose's bloom, Yet still
37:20
Speaker 1: that rose may shed a wondrous, sweet perfume. Sometimes troubles
37:24
Speaker 1: come to man that cause him much dismay till friendly
37:28
Speaker 1: hands reach out to help him on his way. For
37:31
Speaker 1: every cloud that darkens, there is a gleam of light.
37:35
Speaker 1: For every day that saddens, there are others that requite
37:42
Speaker 1: My old sweetheart, A bonnie bonnie Lassie. Was that sweetheart
37:48
Speaker 1: old of mine who won my heart and kept it
37:52
Speaker 1: in the days of old aangxyne. Her eyes were like
37:55
Speaker 1: the stars, and her form of fairy mold. The hair
37:58
Speaker 1: that hid her smiling face shone like the purest gold.
38:02
Speaker 1: She smiled for me alone in those days of long ago.
38:06
Speaker 1: My heart still holds her sacred. No others care I
38:10
Speaker 1: to know. The years have passed away, there is silver
38:13
Speaker 1: among the gold, But the love for my old sweetheart
38:16
Speaker 1: has never never grown cold. Down the pathway of life
38:20
Speaker 1: we've wandered to and fro, but still she smiles for me.
38:24
Speaker 1: As in the days of long ago, No fears had
38:27
Speaker 1: I at all of future storm nor tide, For that
38:31
Speaker 1: sweetheart old of mine was standing by my side. And
38:35
Speaker 1: when I crossed the sunset bar pushing outward towards the sea,
38:40
Speaker 1: May she, that loved companion, go hand in hand with me. Vermont,
38:49
Speaker 1: beautiful land of sunshine, land of rocks and of hills,
38:53
Speaker 1: where leap the laughing waters of thousand noisy rills, where
38:57
Speaker 1: birds in early springtime make me in every tree and
39:01
Speaker 1: flowers bloom uncounted on hillside pastures and lee where meadows
39:07
Speaker 1: in the June time, blood red with berries, flaunt the
39:10
Speaker 1: hilltops crowned with maples. The pride of old Vermont tis
39:15
Speaker 1: ever a land of beauty in seasons throughout the year,
39:18
Speaker 1: a subject for the artist, a theme for poet and seer.
39:23
Speaker 1: No humble tongue of mortal has ever power to tell
39:27
Speaker 1: one half the wondrous beauty of hill, of valley, of Dell.
39:33
Speaker 1: End of section nine, section ten of verses by Frank H. Craig.
39:44
Speaker 1: This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Marianne.
39:49
Speaker 1: In winter, when the snow is on the ground and
39:53
Speaker 1: the hearth fire blazes red, there is music in the air,
39:57
Speaker 1: though the birds have southward fled. Merry sleigh bells and
40:01
Speaker 1: their jingle crunching runners through the snow make sweet music
40:05
Speaker 1: in the land where the winds of winter blow in
40:09
Speaker 1: the blossom of the south Land and the rose tree
40:11
Speaker 1: of the west lose their glamor in our eyes when
40:14
Speaker 1: the spruce with snow is dressed. Where such beauty as
40:18
Speaker 1: is seen on these mornings, crisp and cold, when the
40:22
Speaker 1: sun in splendor paints shades of crimson and of gold.
40:27
Speaker 1: Were we exiled at this time to those warmer southern seas.
40:30
Speaker 1: We should miss the whitened hills, We should miss the
40:33
Speaker 1: snow clad trees. The thread girl at work by the
40:41
Speaker 1: counter in a space two by four is the girl
40:44
Speaker 1: who sells thread for the ten cent store. With fingers
40:48
Speaker 1: that are nimble and a step that is light, she
40:50
Speaker 1: waits on her customers from morning till night. She works
40:54
Speaker 1: with a will that is pleasant to see. Her face
40:57
Speaker 1: like the may time, is ever care free. The tint
41:01
Speaker 1: of good health which mantles her cheek needs not the
41:03
Speaker 1: color that the fashionable seek. For. The girl who is
41:07
Speaker 1: busy in a space two by four, just look to
41:10
Speaker 1: the thread counter of the ten cents door. Wind der
41:16
Speaker 1: wind heads down de river. When their wind heads down
41:21
Speaker 1: de river dems their times, we all as shiver, shiver,
41:25
Speaker 1: lick a trembling leaf in their eddies round a reef.
41:29
Speaker 1: Demster mornings that their clothes never cover all their toes.
41:34
Speaker 1: Demster mornings that their nose turns their color of de
41:37
Speaker 1: rose under fingers sting and tingle like our fader's pine
41:42
Speaker 1: tree shingle inder dot. It makes us shiver when the
41:47
Speaker 1: wind heads down their river dems de mornings brit and early,
41:53
Speaker 1: our old rouster, big and burly, That old ruster Medlenkock
41:58
Speaker 1: makes more noise than larm clock. Ontie walks us from
42:02
Speaker 1: their sleep, dat vas broad as it vuzzed deep darned
42:06
Speaker 1: at Medlin Roostercock with his loud old alarm clock. How
42:11
Speaker 1: we hate to think of it. We do lick it
42:13
Speaker 1: not one bit when the wind begins to quiver like
42:18
Speaker 1: he's aheadin down de river. The new star. One winter night,
42:26
Speaker 1: long long ago, the shepherd sang with voices low, while
42:30
Speaker 1: tending sheep on Judas Hills, compassed about by brooks and rills.
42:35
Speaker 1: The stars above their guide at night. They knew them all,
42:39
Speaker 1: each satellite their wonder grew that winter night a brighter
42:44
Speaker 1: star hove on their sight. They saw this star, a
42:48
Speaker 1: blazing gem. It stood above fair Bethlehem, Washington's birthday. Eyes
42:58
Speaker 1: of freemen turned to day towards Mount Vernon's rising sun
43:02
Speaker 1: filled our hearts to overflowing with a love for Washington. Washington,
43:08
Speaker 1: our Washington, brave and staunchest of the ages, just his cause,
43:13
Speaker 1: the justice ever told by history in its pages. Let
43:17
Speaker 1: the nations laud their heroes, tell of battles they have won.
43:21
Speaker 1: None can ever dim the luster of our noble Washington.
43:25
Speaker 1: We inherit both the glory and the tasks that he begun.
43:29
Speaker 1: Let us hold them ever sacred as we prize our Washington.
43:34
Speaker 1: End of section ten, Section eleven of verses by Frank H. Craig.
43:44
Speaker 1: This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Repay Marianne.
43:49
Speaker 1: Come April breezes, Come quickly. April breezes, bring back the
43:54
Speaker 1: gentle shower. Draw forth the frosts of winter, and start
43:58
Speaker 1: the early flower. Start the sapids upward course in all
44:02
Speaker 1: our maple trees. Bring forth that sappy sweetness which lures
44:06
Speaker 1: the drowsy bees. Breathe on the rocky hill side where
44:10
Speaker 1: sleeps the violet blue, reach down beneath the snow drift,
44:14
Speaker 1: and nature's buds renew. Bring back the cawing crow, release
44:18
Speaker 1: the ice locked river. Drive back those northern blasts that
44:22
Speaker 1: make us ever shiver. Come quickly, April breezes, We look
44:27
Speaker 1: for you to day. We know by all the omens
44:30
Speaker 1: you're now upon your way March. March is a month
44:37
Speaker 1: of changes, of winds, of rain, and of cold. What
44:41
Speaker 1: else could be expected. Old Winter is losing his hold.
44:45
Speaker 1: He is on his way to the north, carrying his
44:48
Speaker 1: ice and snow. Tis a joy for us to know it.
44:51
Speaker 1: He surely is going but slow. The birds will follow
44:55
Speaker 1: him closely. They will sing in the trees above the
44:59
Speaker 1: sun and the rain together will bring the flowers we love.
45:02
Speaker 1: Tis easy to keep one's courage this dreary month of
45:06
Speaker 1: the year, For April and May are coming. They are
45:09
Speaker 1: now on the way and near sabbath morn. The sun
45:17
Speaker 1: rose bright or eastern hill, bathing with light my window sill,
45:22
Speaker 1: the song of bird and shrub and tree spoke to
45:25
Speaker 1: me of a life that's free. Glinted the river through
45:28
Speaker 1: the trees, moved the leaves in every breeze, every dewdrop
45:33
Speaker 1: a diamond bright alchemist formed over night, one smoke rose
45:38
Speaker 1: above them all, twas the pastures astore and tall. First
45:43
Speaker 1: was he of Scotland, born to break the quiet the
45:46
Speaker 1: sabbath morn, free from toil and steady grind as any
45:51
Speaker 1: haven that one can find in this village among the hills,
45:55
Speaker 1: flanked about by brooks and rills. River and hill and
45:59
Speaker 1: tree adorn this quiet place. On Sabbath morn, childhood memories
46:09
Speaker 1: back to the days of childhood. As memory turn to night,
46:12
Speaker 1: we see again the kitchen walls and the firelight gleaming bright.
46:17
Speaker 1: The old clock stands upon the shelf, and near it
46:20
Speaker 1: the spinning wheel patiently waits for busy hands. At the
46:23
Speaker 1: close of the evening meal, a candle shines from the
46:27
Speaker 1: center of the table, oaken and old. In the corners
46:30
Speaker 1: round about lurk shadows grotesque and bold. The men folks
46:35
Speaker 1: in from the stable, with chairs tipped back to the
46:38
Speaker 1: wall like rover, tired and hungry, are waiting the supper call.
46:43
Speaker 1: Coarse was the food, but plenty and rude was that
46:47
Speaker 1: humble home. But who can ever forget it? Though far
46:50
Speaker 1: from its portals we roam no picture of modern times,
46:55
Speaker 1: however skillful the art can erase the visions of childhood,
46:59
Speaker 1: so dear to the human heart. Christmas night, while the
47:07
Speaker 1: snows are deep without and the winds of winter blow,
47:10
Speaker 1: we sit by the old old fireplace and watch the
47:13
Speaker 1: embers glow heaped high. Are the coals therein, and the
47:18
Speaker 1: flames dance to and fro, brightening the walls of the
47:21
Speaker 1: room and its wreaths of mistletoe. Uncle within his easy chair,
47:26
Speaker 1: and I by the table, Old are talking of olden times,
47:30
Speaker 1: of their pleasures manifold. We talk of long lost faces,
47:35
Speaker 1: of friends made long ago, and through the halls of
47:38
Speaker 1: memory their voices come and go. Our hearts are filled
47:42
Speaker 1: with sorrow as we think of the loving ties that
47:45
Speaker 1: bind us to these dear ones who have passed beyond
47:48
Speaker 1: the skies, through all the world. To night, the Christmas
47:52
Speaker 1: bells are ringing, but sweeter still those loved ones are
47:55
Speaker 1: with the angels singing and a section eleven, Section twelve
48:08
Speaker 1: of verses by Frank H. Craig. This LibriVox recording is
48:11
Speaker 1: in the public domain. Read by Marianne. The fog A
48:18
Speaker 1: fog cloud hangs heavy in the valley below. Not a
48:21
Speaker 1: breath of air stirs the leaves to and fro through
48:26
Speaker 1: a rift in the fog. On the side of the hills.
48:28
Speaker 1: A line of green trees and open space fills the
48:32
Speaker 1: valley is quiet as the leaves on the trees. Not
48:36
Speaker 1: a whistle is heard, Not a person one sees. Not
48:39
Speaker 1: even the murmur of a brook is heard, nor a
48:42
Speaker 1: song from the trees of cricket or bird. For the fog,
48:46
Speaker 1: like a pall, is damper to life. It shuts from
48:49
Speaker 1: the world its sunlight and strife. Illinois, Illinois, your home,
48:59
Speaker 1: my home, with soil that's rich and deep, Where fields
49:04
Speaker 1: of waving grain for miles, the prairies sweep, her rivers,
49:07
Speaker 1: and her lake beneath our flag unfurled, carry many useful
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Speaker 1: products to the markets of the world. Tis a gem
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Speaker 1: among the lands that encircle all the earth, where of
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Speaker 1: noble deeds and actions there has never been a dearth
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Speaker 1: of this land. Are Illinois. Let us ever then be proud,
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Speaker 1: Let us ever ever love it, Let us sing its
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Speaker 1: praise is loud. For our state, or any state, will
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Speaker 1: be great or will be small as they live and
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Speaker 1: think within it, one by one, her people, all Iowa
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Speaker 1: land where gentle breezes blow, land where streams of silver flow.
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Speaker 1: We love her hills, her waving grain, her winter's cold,
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Speaker 1: her summer's rain. From east to west, her prairies sweep
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Speaker 1: or streams and lake with trough to leap. There grazing
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Speaker 1: flocks on rolling lee reach farther than the eye can
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Speaker 1: see across her bosom fathoms, steep, sailing cloud shadows slowly
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Speaker 1: creep and rising sun at early morn, Decked with jewels,
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Speaker 1: her waving corn stalwart, Her men, her women fare in
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Speaker 1: war in peace, She does her share. When state and
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Speaker 1: nation on her call, she stands as firm as China's wall.
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Speaker 1: End of Section twelve and end of verses by Frank H.
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Speaker 1: Craig