_At My Little Cabin Home_

At my little cabin home, In the timber by the Platte; Have I ever cared to roam? Go away, quit, forsake my little, cozy, quaint, Colorado home? No, no; I could not,--could not think of that. Happy as a monarch I reside, In the forest by my native river-side.

In the valley of the Platte I am plucking flowers to-day, Early wildings of the May. See! I’ve nearly filled my hat!

Ridge-flowers red, sand-lilies white, Tufts of snowy-crested plumes; Currants crowned with golden blooms; Hawthorne-buds, bursting into light.

Strolling in the grove, Gathering flowers for my love, Gathering sweet flowers of the May Oh, my heart, my heart is glad to-day!

From my little cabin home By the swiftly-flowing Platte, Where the trout grow large and fat, Have I ever cared to roam? Go away, quit, forsake my little, cozy, quaint, Colorado home? No, no; I could not,--could not think of that. Happy as a monarch I reside In the forest by my native river-side.