~ William Allhands ~

“Simple Things”

The beauty of a fading day,
The laughter of a child at play,
The restful charm of summer skies,
The lovelight in a maiden’s eyes,
The glory of bright autumn’s trees —
Are simple things, and yet ’tis these
That bridge the doubts and chartless bars —
And make a pathway to the stars.

“Songs She Sang To Me”

Bright were the songs she sang to me,
Like the warm glow in her eyes
And true was the love she had for me,
True as summer skies.
When I, a lad of long ago
And she my charming mother
Lived in a house among the hills
With sister, dad and brother.

Oh, the years have been so many,
‘Til it seems now just a dream,
The songs that Mother sang to me
At home by the mountain stream.
But many times down the lanes of life,
Dim like a foggy sea,
I’ve found the port of faith and hope
From the songs she sang to me.

“Mother”

If you have climbed up to the heights,
The lofty heights of fame,
There is one who will rejoice
At the mention of your name,
And if you have wandered from the trail of life,
Into the paths of sin,
She is still willing in her confidence
To take you in:
It matters not to her
What others people may say,
She still loves you in
The same old-fashioned way.

She makes the sunny days more beautiful
And the dark days bright,
She is a light to guide us
Through the night.
She is like the dew in the morning hours,
Her love is like the beauty of the flowers,
Her thoughts and prayers are
Jewels rare,
Reflecting to us her devotion
And care.

She is one who is foremost
In our thoughts,
We recall to memory the lessons
That she taught.
When life’s fleeting day has
Passed away.
And she has gone from earth to stay.
As we go from one place
To another
We will find, there’s no one
So dear as Mother.

“The old rail fence”

Thinking of forgotten, bygone days,
One scene familiar to you and me always,
With background of deep forest green and dense,
Is that grey weatherbeaten old rail fence.

A path leading to it over the style,
And out across, winding for half a mile-
Where tall grass and the sweet wild flowers grew
And bees buzzed around in search of honeydew.

The dear old fence where robins used to sing
There in the past when it was early spring;
And often on a warm and summer day,
Between the rails bright butterflies would play.

Like schoolroom viewed without desk and seat,
No landscape painting ever was complete,
As these forgotten days to us are known,
Unless the picturesque rail fence is shown.

“Reflections”

I stood on the bank at twilight
And watched the waters murmur by,
I gazed at the reflection of
Gray clouds crossing the sullen sky.

I stood on the bank, darkness round,
And heard the stream go rippling on.
I saw the moon and stars smile through
And knew the sullen sky was gone.

I stood on the bank of a lifetime
And saw the stream fo flowing years.
I saw bright hope that twinkling beams –
Forgotten were all doubts and fears.