Page:Andrew Lockhart - At the Bars of Memory.pdf/27

 

He knew not the volumes o' long treasur'd lore, Nor thought of the fray, with its hatred an' gore; Cared little for honors an' places o' fame, An' the world will ne'er thrill at the sound o' his name; But he lov'd all mankind on the highway o' life; He lov'd nature's wild haunts, far away from the strife; He was kind to his fellows, the high an' the low; An' his friends would oft whisper: "We all love him so!"

He liv'd in a house by the side of the road. An' a hundred times over would share the sad load Of a wanderin' pilgrim who stopp'd in the shade For a moment o' rest. While the warm sunshine play'd On the face of the man with his cheery, "hello"— An' the travelers could not help lovin' him so. They all lov'd him so, though the man knew it not As he wav'd a farewell from his vine-cover'd cot.

He's sleepin' today beneath the shelterin' trees That sob to the flow'rs, as the sweet summer breeze Prints a kiss on the mound o'er the last restin' spot Of the man that we lov'd, though he reckoned it not. An' when the Great Author shall call the last roll I know He will honor that friendly old soul. W h o gave o' his love an' would lighten the load Of the man who walk'd by on the long, weary road!  

When the curtain descends. An' I've made my amends For wrongs I may have done; An' the echoin' knell Of the slow, tollin' bell Proclaims my day is done; O, lay me to sleep In a grave that is deep. Where trees are bendin' low; Where the birds always sing With the sweetness o' spring— In life I lov'd them so!

Let me slumber out there In the sweet perfumed air. Beneath the verdant sod. Just a spot 'neath the trees, Where the wild honey bees Toil where the daisies nod. An' there leave me at rest In earth's comfortin' breast, Immune to pain an' woe: Near the birds an' the flowers, An' God's measureless powers; In life I lov'd them so!