NEAR THE CLOSE OF THE MAPLE SUGAR SEASON.
IN SUGARING TIME.
Helen M. Winslow, in Harper’s Bazaar.
It’s sugarin’-time up country; an’ settin’ here in town
I seem to hear the “drip, drip, drip” of sap a-tricklin down
Into them wooden buckets in our old sugar place,
Afore Josiah died, an’ our only daughter, Grace,
Insisted ’twasn’t noways safe for me to live alone
Up in that old brown farm-house that long’s I live I own;
An’ naught would do but I must come an’ stay along o’her,