The Old Man Dreams.

The blackened walnut in its spicy hull Rots where it fell; And, in the orchard, where the trees stand full, The pear's ripe bell Drops; and the log-house in the bramble lane, From whose low door Stretch yellowing acres of the corn and cane, He sees once more. The cat-bird sings upon its porch of pine; And o'er its gate, All slender-podded, twists the trumpet-vine, A leafy weight; And in the woodland, by the spring, mayhap, With eyes of joy Again he bends to set a rabbit-trap, A brown-faced boy. Then, whistling, through the underbrush he goes, Out of the wood, Where, with young cheeks, red as an Autumn rose, Beneath her hood, His sweetheart waits, her school-books on her arm; And now it seems Beside his chair he sees his wife's fair form— The old man dreams.