Ever flowing, winding southward, Still the Tunxis River murmurs Of the Light House on the hill-side And the people of the village. Standing there beside the river Echoes of the past come floating, On the sighing breezes floating, Voices of the Light House people, From the lonely mountain shadows, Home of ageless Molly Barber. Tiger lilies blossom yearly, Near the shallow, empty cellars, Here and there a lonely lilac Flowers gaily in the spring time, Sweet reminder of the people Once residing in the village. Here and there throughout the valley People say, "The lilacs growing Strong and hardy by my window Are descendants of the lilacs Growing in the Light House village, Planted there by Molly Barber." Baskets fashioned on the hill-side By the lonely Light House people Still are cherished in the valley. Thus the name of Molly Barber Lives beyond her earthly journey In neat handiwork and flowers. Forest shades the lonely grave yard Where within the dim enclosure Over fifty dead are buried-- Many have no standing markers. There the grave of Molly Barber, Scarcely seen among the others, Mute reminder of the quarrel Of a maiden and her father; All the harshness of his anger, All the firmness of his daughter And the sorrow of her mother-- Grim reminder to all fathers, "Deal more wisely with your daughter." 45. HALLOWED IS THE LONELY GRAVEYARD. A hush is on the mountain side-- Silent is the lonely grave yard. Asleep the Indian and his bride- Molly Barber--Honest Chaugham. Now afar beyond the valley, In a world of toil and pleasure, In a world of joy and sorrow, Last of all he told more slowly All the story of the graveyard, Many people proudly boasting, Say, ''The blood of Molly Barber And her spouse, the Honest Chaugham, From the Narragansett nation, And the Spanish Senorita Daily courses through my being." Hallowed are the Light House cabins, Once on Ragged Mountain, In the lonely Peoples' Forest By the river in Barkhamsted. Hallowed is the lonely grave yard With its palisade and headstones, Though they're crude and nameless markers, And the name of Molly Barber, With her spouse, the Honest Chaugham, Known afar in song and story. Generations yet unborn, Oft shall listen to the story Of the famous Light House village, Home of ageless Molly Barber, By the Tunxis in Barkhamsted. Oft they'll meet the Light House children, As they journey through the ages, To the final Armageddon When the age of man is ended And the clock of time is broken. 46. FAMOUS THEN THE BASKET-MAKER. Sol Webster and his aged wife Oft retold the famous story, Recounting scenes of Light House life On the side of Ragged Mountain. Through the slowly rolling seasons Lived Sol Webster and his partner, Aged Mary Niles of Riverton, Ever busy making baskets, Baskets in the Robert's homestead, Nestled on the slope of Hart's Hill, Near the Tunxis, south of Riverton, Westward o'er the shining river From the storied Light House village.