It is an old man’s face, with clustering gray hair,
And a wrinkled forehead wearing, though furrowed not by care;
Old Robert Merry, with his smiles, his tales of other climes,
His Museum of curious things, new stories and old rhymes.
We knew him by another name in years that are gone by,
And loved good Peter Parley with his kind brow and eye;
Each month unto our mountain home, came “Parley’s Magazine,”
’Till “Merry’s Museum” took the place where it so long had been.
We love our guest far better because our own young hands
Have labored for the pleasure he brings from other lands;