The Old Man Dreams.

The blackened walnut in its spicy hull              Rots where it fell;     And, in the orchard, where the trees stand full,              The pear's ripe bell     Drops; and the log-house in the bramble lane,              From whose low door     Stretch yellowing acres of the corn and cane,              He sees once more.     The cat-bird sings upon its porch of pine;              And o'er its gate,     All slender-podded, twists the trumpet-vine,              A leafy weight;     And in the woodland, by the spring, mayhap,              With eyes of joy     Again he bends to set a rabbit-trap,              A brown-faced boy.     Then, whistling, through the underbrush he goes,              Out of the wood,     Where, with young cheeks, red as an Autumn rose,              Beneath her hood,     His sweetheart waits, her school-books on her arm;              And now it seems     Beside his chair he sees his wife's fair form -              The old man dreams.