He lays his paper by, refills his pipe, Gropes for a match, and glancing toward me, says; "How's my old girl?" I straighten up a bit From patching overalls, and smiling, look To catch his answering smile. And then we talk Of all the things that go to make our life, Neighbors and business, what the boys have done Of good and bad. Sometimes we search through years Hunting for names that once were quickly found; Perhaps we build a castle -- plan a trip, Something we'll buy in that delightful day When money's plentiful. We know so much Of things in common, it is hard to choose Just what to talk of. Always, in my heart There is a warmth of pride, that he still likes To visit with me. Married all these years And such true friends. Oh! these are happy days. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MARMOZET by HILAIRE BELLOC MUSIC by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THE EXPOSED NEST by ROBERT FROST AN ODE ON THE UNVEILING OF THE SHAW MEMORIA BOSTON COMMON, MAY 31, 1897 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH FALSE POETS AND TRUE; TO WORDSWORTH by THOMAS HOOD ODE TO THE WEST WIND by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY A PRAYER by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL |