"Look, grandma is coming." Away they fly
Thro' the gate and down the road;
And think no more of the morning's play,
Or the field of corn they sowed.
Thro' the gate and down the road;
And think no more of the morning's play,
Or the field of corn they sowed.
Long years passed by and the little maid
A woman now in her prime,
Came back to visit her childhood's home
And to dream of the olden time.
A woman now in her prime,
Came back to visit her childhood's home
And to dream of the olden time.
She feasted her eyes on the race, the dam,
The stream with its waters clear,
The garden, the meadow, the woods, the fields;
Each spot to memory dear.
The stream with its waters clear,
The garden, the meadow, the woods, the fields;
Each spot to memory dear.
"But father how did the yellow dock
Ever gain such a standing here?"
"I have tried," he said, "to keep it down
But it springs up anew each year."
Ever gain such a standing here?"
"I have tried," he said, "to keep it down
But it springs up anew each year."
And then like a flash to the woman's mind
Came the scene of that autumn morn,
When two little happy barefoot rogues
Were sowing their field of corn.
Came the scene of that autumn morn,
When two little happy barefoot rogues
Were sowing their field of corn.
Thus children sometimes of larger growth,
While seeking fresh joys to gain,
Are sowing seed that can only bring
A harvest of grief and pain.
While seeking fresh joys to gain,
Are sowing seed that can only bring
A harvest of grief and pain.
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