A cabin stands among the pines

On grassy hill beside the lake

‘Round the outside grow the vines

that keep the house not quite awake

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Its summers were once filled with joy

When children played among the trees

A small young sunshine of a boy

His yellow hair blown by the breeze.

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One year he came, and from then on

The seasons spent here, all the years

That youth adorned his face like dawn

Which never seems will disappear

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He dug the worms beside the lake

At four, and five, by water’s side

And stayed a-fishing until late

Saw trout across the water glide

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Only yet a few years more

He played the games of pirates grand

Yet innocent, his love of gore

A child cannot understand.

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At twelve, his sunburned, blue-eyed face

Wreathed in smiles, among the trees

With fleeted foot and careless grace

He trampled barefoot through the leaves

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He saw her as she rode one day

Through the forest at high noon

Her eyes fell on him, merry, gay,

They parted under the new-lit moon

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A letter lies, embalmed in dust

In farthest corner of the room

Fifteen’s first passion, sacred trust

The love that won’t surpass the womb

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Yet life and wars and world strode on

They gave no thought to sylvan trees

And childhood dreams so soon were gone

Lost into the lakes and leas

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The cabin stands, forgotten long

And friendless in a grove of pines

Where wren and robin craft their song

Of hair of golden light divine.

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Perhaps, years hence, a man will come

With silver hair that once was gold

No one will know where he is from—

But he’s the boy, and has grown old

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Perhaps he’ll spend a day onshore

Looking across the lake again

Just as in the times of yore

His laugh will echo through the glen

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The rocking chair upon the porch

Will be his throne and free of grime!

The moon will be a shining torch

But he will not awake this time.

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Sweet fruits of summer bloom and fade

Winter, fall and spring have come

The cabin has by June decayed

Its last and final duty done.

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