Read Ebook: Childhood's happy home and other verses by Kayhart Lemuel

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Ebook has 128 lines and 13564 words, and 3 pages

Release date: December 20, 2023

Original publication: East Orange: The Abby Printshop, 1921

CHILDHOOD'S HAPPY HOME AND OTHER VERSES

LEMUEL KAYHART

CHILDHOOD'S HAPPY HOME

LEMUEL KAYHART

Oh home, sweet home, my childhood's home, To thee my heart holds near, No other place in this wide world, To me, is half so dear.

When daisies decked the green clad fields, And fragrance filled the air, I loved to roam the shady dell, And never dreamed of care!

And when I'd lay my weary head On mother's loving breast, No mortal danger could I fear, While there I'd calmly rest.

And when the twilight hours came, The stars began to peep,-- She'd take me to my little couch And lay me down to sleep.

And in the morning, when I'd wake, Oh what heavenly bliss! She'd take me in her loving arms, And greet me with a kiss.

But now old age is coming on, These locks are turning gray,-- Like millions passed and gone, I feel I'm passing fast away.

Oh that I were a child again To lean on mother's breast; Free from trouble, care and strife This weary form might rest.

When earth and friends I bid adieu, Yon golden streets to roam,-- I may forget,--but not till then, MY CHILDHOOD'S HAPPY HOME!

GENESIS ANALYZED

LEMUEL KAYHART

'Twas man who first came on the earth, Without a sin or shame; He knew nothing but joy and mirth, And Adam was his name.

In Eden's garden he was placed, And lovely were the scenes; All fitted up with God's own taste, Among the evergreens.

How happy then he must have been, From toil and labor free; From sickness, sorrow, death and sin,-- In Nature's charming glee!

In God's own image he was made, Without a single care; He never used a hoe nor spade, 'Till woman was put there.

'Twas woman first broke God's command, Then tempted man to sin; 'Twas her first brought shame in the land, And raised this awful din.

Through woman, Christ with grief did mourn, For her He bled and died; For her He wore a crown of thorns, Was hung and crucified.

If Adam had reserved his bone, 'Tis true he'd had no wife; 'Tis better far to live alone, Than live in war and strife.

But now, you know, since Adam's time, That things are all made new,-- And now to end my little rhyme, I'll call her Kind and True!

THE GREEN SHADY WOODS

LEMUEL KAYHART

Oh! give me the place where I roamed when a child, Where beauty and nature Enchantingly smiled; Where at twilight we heard The sweet whippoorwill, In the green shady woods On the slope of the hill.

'Twas there in my childhood I rambled with glee; 'Twas there in my youth that I longed so to be; The place that I loved, with A hearty good will, Was the green shady woods On the slope of the hill.

I'd go in the morning, So happy and free, And linger till twilight Approaching I'd see; With brothers, and sisters, I played with a will, In the green shady woods On the slope of the hill.

Where the songs of the birds Re-echo and die; Where the cool, fresh breezes So playfully sigh; Where we listened with joy, To the rippling rill, In the green shady woods On the slope of the hill.

And there to that clear, cool, Crystal spring we'd go, And down on our knees to Its fountain bow low, Like the waters of life Our souls it would thrill, In the green shady woods On the slope of the hill.

I've roamed over landscapes, Through country and town, I've wandered through cities The streets up and down; But no place do I find, Though quiet and still, Like the green shady woods On the slope of the hill.

Oh! give me the place where I wantonly strayed; Where in hot summer days My weary head laid; Oh! give me the place where All's quiet and still, In the green shady woods On the slope of the hill.

And this be my wish, In my last fleeting breath, When this mortal body Is stricken in death:-- Oh! lay me 'neath the turf, All quiet and still, In the green shady woods On the slope of the hill.

And there though my body Lies wrapped in green sod, My spirit will go To the keeping of God; Till Gabriel's last trumpet Shall blow loud and shrill, May I sleep 'neath the woods On the slope of the hill.

TOAST

LEMUEL KAYHART

Here's to the ladies, more precious than gold, Here's to the modest and likewise the bold, Here's to the aged, old grandmother, dear, Here's to the maid who's old and grown queer.

Here's to the maiden who's happy and gay, Here's to the girl who will dance night and day, Here's to the maid with a bosom of ice, Here's to the girl who will kiss a man twice.

Here's to the brunette, the freckled and fair, Here's to the blonde with blue eyes and white hair, Here's to the maid with complexion like snow, Here's to old Dinah as black as a crow.

Here's to the lady and here's to the lass, Here's to the lady who's greener than grass, Here's to the sweetheart, and here's to the beau, Here's to the lad who can reap, plough or sow.

Here's to the maiden who's rosy and fat, Here's to the miser, more like a starved cat, Here's to the lean, stout, long, slim and tall, God bless their dear hearts, we'll toast to them all.

Here's to the maiden who's dimples we prize, Here's to the girl with a pair of black eyes, Here's to the housewife all cumbered with care, Here's to the girl with the bonny red hair.

Here's to the servant and here's to the king, Here's to the ladies that happiness bring, Here's to the dandy and here's to the queen, I'll toast to you all, I'll not go it mean.

Here's to the aged and here's to the young, Here's to the maid with a little short tongue, Here's to the gossip though feeble and frail, Tongue on a swizel and long as a rail.

Here's to the widow and here's to the maid, Here's to the woman of work not afraid, Here's to the girl who can laugh, sing or sigh, Here's to the maid with false teeth and one eye.

Here's to the lady who's over-refined, All banged in the head and bustle behind, God bless them, we love them, they're handsome and fair, Even when made up with cotton and hair.

Here's to the mother of one little boy, Here's to his papa who's filled full of joy, Here's to the man who's nary a son, Here's to the father of twenty and one.

Here's to the babies, the sweet little dears, Here's to their parents who shed silent tears, Here's to the maid with a heart full of woe, Here's to the lass who can say yes or no.

Here's to our cousins, our uncles and aunts, Here's to the boy with his first pair of pants, Here's to the youth whom many boys know, Who looks in the glass to see his hair grow.

Here's to the man, too honest to cheat, Here's to the butcher who sells us good meat, May he live long and happy with plentiful store, And when we're all hungry, stop at our door.

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