For I must stay—in sugarin’-time—on Beacon Street in town.
The children never, as of old, shall I tuck in at night,
Their little feet so tired, but their happy hearts so light.
They wouldn’t go back if they could, an’ I’m too old they say;
An’ sence Josiah isn’t there, I let ’em have their way.
It’s sugarin’-time up country, though, an’ memories, like the sap,
Start up an’ set me longin’ for Mother Natur’s lap,—
An’ him, an’ Jim,—the farm, the hens, the horses in the stall.
It’s sugarin’-time up country; I’m homesick—that is all.