DISTRUST
He walks the safest way;
There must be no thistles on his path.
He knows all men are clay.
If truth wears feathers in her cap,
They must be plucked away,
That all may proven be.
COUNTING
The morning sun casts purple in the fields,
A mocking bird sings gaily in the oaks,
White fluffy clouds rest in the murky sky.
It is yet cool, the maples scarcely stir,
But noon will burn the grasses by the way
And give the girl there at the soda fount
A welcome trade. The heat will parch the earth,
So that flowers will wilt and droop their charm.
But night will come and bring refreshing breeze
And fold a soothing mantle over all
Like mother spreading blankets over Tom.
Now day by day the summer slips on by,
Its stifling heat and gloomy skies will pass.
And winter cold will come with hoary frost;
Yet by our hearths we rest in quiet peace,
Secure our roofs and snug our sheltered beds.
Remember Spring, how roses bloom and flamed!
And how the sunny days kept pace with time.
In winter some hours will be gilded gold.
It's true our blessings add up more than half.
ON THE FERRY
A multitude of lights twinkled in glee;
Receding ones reached out, their friendship gleamed
With hands across to shield from dark, it seemed;
And coming dock was lit from home to sea.
There was no gloam and dusk for you and me.
The stars above, grand sentinels all reamed,
Conducting us home like naught ever dreamed;
The scalloped bridge festooned like a Christmas tree,
And gate post lamps led strangers through the park.
Our fathers planned that all should walk in light,
That every man could find his way like day,
Until the amber dawning wake the lark.
Thus peacefully we glided through the night,
Serenely going home the ferry way.