My Daddy, he caught the most wonderful fish—there were thin ones and fat ones and round,
And some were so long that their tails when he walked would be dragging right down on the ground;
He scraped off their scales on a log that he had at the woodpile, and said he would know
That log just as well if he saw it today, although that was a long time ago.
He used to dig worms of a wonderful size—he has never seen any like those
Since he was grown up; and on Saturdays he wore a wonderful old suit of clothes
And a hat that an uncle of his had forgot, for on Friday he did all his sums,
And Saturday always he went off somewhere with his one or two wonderful chums.
My Daddy, he lived in a wonderful place when he was a twelve-year-old lad,
For no matter what kind of a day it might be there was always some fun to be had.
He learned how to swim in a wonderful creek, where all of the whole summer long
The water was warm, and the springboard they had it was springy and slippery and strong.
And on the way home they found berries to eat, and he said he remembers them well,
And it didn’t seem nearly a mile to back home, for there always was something to tell
That took up the time both for him and his chums, and sometimes they came home a new way,
And always all summer they had it all planned what to do on the next Saturday.
My Daddy, he said he could go back there now and could take me as straight as a string
To all of the wonderful places he knew—where the first flowers came in the spring;
Where you almost were sure to catch fish in the brook—where the nuts would come dropping in fall;
Where the most berries were on the way to back home—he is sure he remembers them all.
He knows where the squirrels were most apt to be, and the lane where the hay wagon comes;
And said he’d find names in the bark of a tree that were cut there by him and his chums
Twenty-five years ago, and the log where they sat when they found the big garter-snake curled.
My Daddy, he must have had wonderful times in the splendidest place in the world!
REMEMBRANCES, BILL
I WONDER if you still remember them, Bill,
The fresh morning glories that crept up the sill
And nodded at us when the night time was gone
And curtains thrown open to let in the dawn;
The light over there, and the edge of the sun
That blazed on the hill when the day was begun,
The air on our cheeks and the sparkle of dew,
Our hearts and our hopes like the day that was new.
I wonder if you still remember them, Bill,
The way of a thousand delights up the hill,
Through lanes and by hedges, where orchards were sweet,
And clover dews healing the woes of bare feet;
The chatter of squirrels, the rattle of leaves,
The round, yellow pumpkins, the wind-tattered sheaves,
The shade that was deep and lent splendor to dreams
And lips that were laved by the bubbles of streams.
I wonder if you still remember them, Bill,
The times when the cup of all nature would spill
Its gladness for us, when the days overflowed
With the laughter of playtime, and far down the road
Were milestones all marked by delights jointly shared,
To set off the days where adventure’s steps fared;
Nor ever a secret but innocence knew,
The heart of youth hallowed and joy bubbled through.
I wonder if you still remember them, Bill,
The times in the twilight, on hedgerow and hill
When we whistled homeward, upon the old road
With hearts full of gladness that quite overflowed;
The pillows where nestled two tangles of hair,
The joy-freighted dreams, with a left-over share
For the dawn of the morrow—a thread that was pearled
With jewels of joy that were strung ’round our world.
I wonder if you still remember them, Bill,
Our vows to the future we thought to fulfill;
Our day dreams to cherish, our faith to endure,
Through trials how bitter our hearts to keep pure;
No gladness of living but we two would share—
The lanes and the byways are wondrously fair,
But somehow the voices grow tuneless and still—
I wonder if you still remember them, Bill.