Are you ever as happy as you were then,
When you straightened your toil-bent, weary
backs
At the welcome plop of dad’s old axe?
And tell me truly, can you forget
The sight of the table that mother set,
When dropping the saws in the twilight gloom,
We trooped to the cheer of the dear fore-room,
And there in the red shade’s mellow light
Made feast with a grand good appetite?