THE OLD FARM.
Reading edition
The dear old farm has a sacred charm That extends to farthest bound, Every rock and tree is dear to me, And hallowed seems the ground. Its beautiful stream whose waters gleam As they dance on to the sea, Sings sweeter song, as it moves along, Than other waters to me. No leaves are so green, as those that screen The revered old farm-house doors, From the burning sun of torrid June When his fiercest rays he pours. Each grove and field doth a mem'ry yield Of dear childhood's blissful hours, And in accents clear, voices I hear That have now augmented powers. My father's care and my mother's prayer Are now ended here on earth, But as time rolls on, since they have gone, I shall understand their worth. There's a sacred charm in the dear old farm, For loved ones have trod its soil, And much I now see, appears to me As fruit of their faithful toil.