Some men throw a dollar in the contribution box and immediately figure compound interest on it at two per cent per month.
In the Orchards of Spring.
A cloud of white in the orchard
And blossoms fair in the sun,
When love comes by in the morning
And sings till the day is done!
A cloud of white in the orchard!
O, branches hung with the bloom
At touch of her fairy fingers
And breath of her sweet perfume!
A cloud of white in the orchard
And skies with their deeps of blue,
And songs of the purple morning
That come at the thoughts of you!
A cloud of white in the orchard,
Where Love and her feet has run,
Where you came by in the morning
And stayed till the set of sun!
O, cloud of white in the orchard
And days with the skies of blue!
And songs that were sweet with laughter
And sang with the lips of you!