Читать книгу Cross Roads - Margaret E. Sangster - Страница 6

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I took th' horses to th' brook—to water 'em you know,

Th' air was cold with just a touch o' frost;

And as we went a-joggin' down I couldn't help but

think,

O' city folk an' all the things they lost.

O' cause they have their lighted streets—their Great

White Way an' such,

O' course they have their buildings large an' tall;

But, my! they never know th' joy o' ridin' ter th'

brook,

An' somehow I don't envy 'em at all!

Perhaps I'd like it—for awhile—to hear th' songs an'

laughter,

But somehow, I don't know exactly why;

I'd feel th' country callin' me; I'd long again fer

silence,

An' fer God's mountains, blue against the sky.

I took th' horses to th' brook—to water 'em you know,

Th' day was pretty as a day can be;

An' as we went a-joggin' down I couldn't help but

think,

O' city folk an' all they never see!