Front matter

How rich is life on old Cape Cod Where autumn smiles in golden rod, And marshes flame, though not with fire - A region blest of heart’s desire. In vain we’d roam the Seven Seas There are no quainter shores than these. Here nature in indulgent mood Enfolds us with her solitude; And here her cleansing winds combine The tonic of the salt and pine, The while old ocean’s muffled swells Are chiming like cathedral bells. The days drift by without a care As sweet fern odors scent the air, And watching wheeling gulls at play The world of strife seems far away. It must have been a kindly God Who shaped the sands of old Cape Cod.