Moral of it isn't much, greatness may be round about, But when seen from day to day men are slow to find it out. Those who saw him splitting rails, those who heard him plead a case Passed him by with little thought, laughing at his homely face. Those who neighbored with the boy, those who saw his summer tan, Those who lived in Lincoln's time never really knew the man. _The Mushroom Expert_ Bill is a mushroom expert, and Bill is a friend of mine, He has studied the amanita and all its ancestral line; He goes to the fields each autumn to harvest a dinner treat For he knows which are deadly fungi, and which are the ones to eat. Bill can talk by the hour on mushrooms and he laughs at my timid fears, He is still in the land of the living and has eaten the things for years; He is wise in the lore of the meadow, the swamp and the dark ravine, And I'd say, of the mushroom experts, he's the best that I've ever seen. If ever I gathered mushrooms I'd carry them back to Bill And ask him to look them over and pick out the ones that kill; I'd trust to his certain knowledge and bank on his judgment, too, For he is a shark on that stuff and can spiel it right off to you. Bill knows 'em and loves 'em and eats 'em, and all through the days of fall He's out with his little basket in search of the snowy ball; And never I doubt his knowledge, I grant it surpasses mine-- But during the mushroom season I don't go to Bill's to dine. _The Town of Used to Be_ Used to think I'd like to go To the town I used to know As a little bare-foot lad, Tanned of cheek an' always glad. But it's been so long since I Told the good old friends good-bye An' set out for wealth an' fame, That it cannot be the same, An' maybe I'd better not Spoil the picture that I've got. Bill's been back, an' he tells me Town's not what it used to be; That old Barker's grocery store Isn't open any more, An' most folks we knew are gone, Moved away or traveled on To a brighter realm than this; An' the girls we used to kiss An' go courtin' with, somehow Don't seem half so pretty now. Folks have told me that the farm Where I lived has lost its charm An' they've paved the dusty street Which was velvet to our feet, An' it's now a thoroughfare With the hum of motors there; Wouldn't want to lose the joy That I've treasured from a boy-- Guess I'd better keep always Memories of those happier days. I'm afraid of goin' back. Memory still keeps the track To those favorite haunts of mine Like a painted canvas fine, An' the old spots live with me Just the way they used to be; An' to see them now would seem Much like shattering a dream, So the town shall live with me Just the way it used to be. _The Driver of the Truck_