Within these walls with love aglow, They live to-morrow's "Long Ago." Nor is the time so far away When now shall be their yesterday, And they shall turn once more to see The little home which used to be. When comes that time I want them then To wish they could be here again; I want their memories to be A picture of a kindly me, To have them say how very glad Their youthful lives were made by dad. I want them to recall this place As one of charm and tender grace, To love these walls of calm content Wherein their youthful years were spent, And feel through each succeeding year, They lived their happiest moments here. I feel I shall have failed unless This house shall shelter happiness. Save they shall find their truest mirth Around their father's humble hearth, And here life's finest joys attain, I shall have lived my life in vain. _Spring Fever_ When the blue gets back in the skies once more And the vines grow green 'round the kitchen door, When the roses bud and the robins come, I stretch myself and I say: "Ho-hum! I ought to work but I guess I won't; Though some want riches to-day, I don't; This looks to me like the sort of day That was made to idle and dream away." When the sun is high and the air just right, With the trees all blossomy, pink and white, And the grass, as soft as a feather bed With the white clouds drifting just overhead, I stretch and yawn like a school boy then, And turn away from the walks of men And tell myself in a shamefaced way: "I'm going to play hookey from work to-day!" "Here is a morning too rare to miss, And what is gold to a day like this, And what is fame to the things I'll see Through the lattice-work of a fine old tree? There is work to do, but the work can wait; There are goals to reach, there are foes to hate, There are hurtful things which the smart might say, But nothing like that shall spoil to-day." "To-day I'll turn from the noisy town And just put all of my burdens down; I'll quit the world and its common sense, And the things men think are of consequence, To chum with birds and the friendly trees And try to fathom their mysteries, For here is a day which looks to be The kind I can fritter away on me." _Father Song_ It's oh, my little laddie, as you're romping at your play There's an old heart running with you every minute of the day; And though you cannot see me when you're wrapped up in a game, But it's I that am beside you in your striving just the same. It is oh, my little laddie, there is much you cannot know, But it's I that follow proudly everywhere you chance to go; There's a hand upon your shoulder, wheresoever you may be, That would help you out of danger, and that hand belongs to me.