Thinkin' back's a thing 'at grows On a feller, I suppose-- Older 'at he gits, i jack, More he keeps a-thinkin' back! Old as old men git to be, Er as middle-aged as me, Folks'll find us, eye and mind Fixed on what we've left behind-- Rehabilitatin'-like Them old times we used to hike Out barefooted fer the crick, 'Long 'bout _Aprile first_--to pick Out some "warmest" place to go In a-swimmin'--_Ooh! my-oh!_ Wonder now we hadn't died! Grate horseradish on my hide Jes' _a-thinkin'_ how cold then That-'ere worter must 'a' ben! Thinkin' back--W'y, goodness me! I kin call their names and see Every little tad I played With, er fought, er was afraid Of, and so made _him_ the best Friend I had of all the rest! [Illustration] Thinkin' back, I even hear Them a-callin', high and clear, Up the crick-banks, where they seem Still hid in there--like a dream-- And me still a-pantin' on The green pathway they have gone! Still they hide, by bend er ford-- Still they hide--but, thank the Lord, (Thinkin' back, as I have said), I hear laughin' on ahead! [Illustration] NOT ALWAYS GLAD WHEN WE SMILE We are not always glad when we smile: Though we wear a fair face and are gay, And the world we deceive May not ever believe We could laugh in a happier way.-- Yet, down in the deeps of the soul, Ofttimes, with our faces aglow, There's an ache and a moan That we know of alone, And as only the hopeless may know. We are not always glad when we smile,-- For the heart, in a tempest of pain, May live in the guise Of a smile in the eyes As a rainbow may live in the rain; And the stormiest night of our woe May hang out a radiant star Whose light in the sky Of despair is a lie As black as the thunder-clouds are. We are not always glad when we smile!-- But the conscience is quick to record, All the sorrow and sin We are hiding within Is plain in the sight of the Lord: And ever, O ever, till pride And evasion shall cease to defile The sacred recess Of the soul, we confess We are not always glad when we smile. [Illustration] [Illustration] HIS ROOM "I'm home again, my dear old Room, I'm home again, and happy, too, As, peering through the brightening gloom, I find myself alone with you: Though brief my stay, nor far away, I missed you--missed you night and day-- As wildly yearned for you as now.-- Old Room, how are you, anyhow? "My easy chair, with open arms, Awaits me just within the door; The littered carpet's woven charms Have never seemed so bright before,-- The old rosettes and mignonettes And ivy-leaves and violets, Look up as pure and fresh of hue As though baptized in morning dew.