Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/460

442 When the wind came over the cotton and corn,
 * To the long slim loop I'd spring

With brown feet bare, and a hat brim torn,
 * And swing in the grapevine swing.

Swinging in the grapevine swing, Laughing where the wild birds sing,
 * I dream and sigh
 * For the days gone by

Swinging in the grapevine swing.

Out—o'er the water lilies bonnie and bright,
 * Back—to the moss-grown trees;

I shouted and laughed with a heart as light
 * As a wild rose tossed by the breeze.

The mocking bird joined in my reckless glee,
 * I longed for no angel's wing,

I was just as near heaven as I wanted to be
 * Swinging in the grapevine swing.

Swinging in the grapevine swing, Laughing where the wild birds sing,—
 * Oh, to be a boy
 * With a heart full of joy,

Swinging in the grapevine swing!

I'm weary at noon, I'm weary at night,
 * I'm fretted and sore of heart,

And care is sowing my locks with white
 * As I wend through the fevered mart.

I'm tired of the world with its pride and pomp,
 * And fame seems a worthless thing.

I'd barter it all for one day's romp,
 * And a swing in the grapevine swing.