Thinks he’s in the old bush kitchen with his hat beneath the chair.
Every eye is turned upon them, and the kindly smiles that flit
O’er the faces of the diners seem to bless them where they sit;
But for me the past revives with thronging memories in its train.
And I’m thinking that it’s Jim and Laughing Mary once again.
Don’t I see it all before me? and I feel the mood is good—
There’s the horse tied by the sliprails, and a hole worn where he stood;
There’s the dreamer riding homewards while the same old fancies throng,
With the same old stars a-staring, and the same old lilting song.
There’s the “talkin’ matters over,” “gettin’ all arrangements straight,”