CHILDHOOD PLEASURES.


 


 


OH, the blissful days of childhood,


When we rambled in the wildwood;


Pulling grape-vines down to swing in;


Waking echoes with our singing;


Putting teeters through the fence;


Playing maple boughs were tents;


Taking rides on fallen logs;


Catching little pollywogs;


Going Maying in the spring,


Seeing who most flowers could bring;


All the long, bright summer day,


Helping father make the hay;


Going fishing in the autumn,


Proud as kings when we had caught 'em;


But the best time, I remember,


Came with Christmas and December.


Oh, such blissful, happy days,—


Would that they might last always!


 


 


 


MARY STEWARD