LOOKING BACK

LOOKING BACK

I sometimes think I’m slipping

Or maybe growing old,

When slow the warmth of springtime

Dispels the winter’s cold.

And memories of yesterday

Are bright and clear and keen;

But recent happenings are dim,

As through a mist are seen.

I see the old home as it stood

When I was but a boy;

When homely ways provided

An ever present joy.

The livestock and the growing grain

All sprang from the good earth;

And chained my fancy then and now,

The mystery of birth.

The apple-orchard to the east,

The red and golden fruit;

The cherries rip’ning on the trees,

The jaybird’s juicy loot.

The garden where the rhubarb grew,

Asparagus and beans,

And ah the thrill deep in my heart,

With Mother boiling greens.

The water in Mosquito Creek,

Deliberate and slow;

And oft I wondered, "Where,oh where

Did all that water go".

The catfish biting in the shade

Down ‘neath the tangled drift

That lay secure by the old footlog;

E’en now I get a lift -

For memories of Mother there,

The fishworms’ wriggling crooks;

And my amazement then and now.

She never lost her hooks.

Just to the west of the fallen tree,

The big boys solemn role

To plumb the depth of the waters deep

Of that “Old Swimmin’ Hole”.

The thrills on thrills when first I found,

(For adjectives I grope)

The priceless arrow-heads, and rare,

Out west upon the slope.

The flintrocks lying there exposed,

It was a wondrous life

When great, big, liquid sparks of fire

Were struck by Dad’s old knife.

The rolling fields across the road

Were landscaped to the south;

The great dewberries by the hedge

For boyhood’s ardent mouth.

The pond just south and. to the east,

A special sort of bog;

And Springtime ev’nings pulsing with

The music of the frogs.

But as the sun sank in the west,

And came the ev’ning breeze

With mottled. shadows on the grass

Beneath the maple trees:

And pickets standing at salute,

And ever prim and white,

And mounting guard as sentinels

As came the summer night.

How, as I step into the rooms

Where as a lad I stood;

And. often pondered. questions deep

‘Tween evil and the good.

And. now I know, far, far away

Are the yesterdays I knew;

But firm and. steadfast in my heart,

The old ‘twined with the new.

My memories, both pain and. joy

Were taken in our stride;

For at the helm our parents stood,

Our course to chart and guide.

Not one of’ us has scaled the heights

As others may have done,

Nor sunk to dark and dismal depths:

Yet, vict’ries we have won.

And now, today, the years have gone.

Life holds few mysteries.

A living Present in our hearts,

We’ve more than memories.

We’ve lived our lives. The time not long

For making history;

With numbered days soon you and I

Will be a memory.

But Brothers, Sisters don’t forget,

That short or long our way,

We have a glorious Present.

Thank God, we have Today.

We’ve brought down with us through the years

A faith to hold, to cheer;

And see the smiling face of God;

Tomorrow shining clear.

H. B. Austin

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