The Coal-Oil Lamp

The coal-oil lamp burns low tonight

And shines across the dimming years,

Its memory a hallowed light

Of laughter interspersed with tears.

The coal-oil lamp burns low.

On father sitting there

It casts its homey glow

Upon his silvered hair.

The coal-oil lamp

Recalls old thrills:

Young foreheads damp

From climbing hills...

The coal

Of youth will light

The path from start to goal--

The coal-oil lamp burns low tonight.

Reflections

Lonely Homestead

The hills remember songs our father sang
When riding range before the break of day.
The winding trails where happy laughter rang
Are silent now, yet all along the way
The same wild roses, radiant and gay,
Hold modest faces to the sun. The sound
Of playing children in the twilight's gray
Is heard no more. Nostalgic meadow-ground
Awaits with hope for eager steps to bound
Across its greening carpet to make sweet
Its longing hours. The loved old home is gowned
In loneliness and yearns for children's feet
To skip across its floors. The years speed fast
Leaving the homestead dreaming of the past.

Twilight Ritual

I long for the wine of assurance
Feeling the doubtings of men;
My ship returns to its home port
To a scene of my childhood again:

Aspens sing for the river's
Lyrics that never grow old.
Stars pin back the curtains of twilight
On the sky with a broach of pale gold.

The breezes are quietly strumming
Tree harps, while a killdeer's far cry
Tunes the heart to the peace of contentment,
To the cricket's lullaby.

Father calls all the family together
To kneel round the hearthstone in prayer.
The harps of the aspens cease strumming
As he talks to God listening there.

I Love the Old

The hills no longer echo songs I sang
When copper glow announced the break of day.
The winding trails where children's laughter rang
Are concrete walks; and all along the way
Where pink wild roses, modestly yet gay,
Lifted their faces to the sun are found
Their cultured sisters flaunting an array
Of brilliant color. Thirsty, parching ground
Is now a greening carpet where abound
Tall junipers with pfitzers at their feet.
The loved old rambling home, enlarged and gowned
In luxury, is leisure's calm retreat.
Upon my soul the homestead left its stamp
For still I love to light the coal-oil lamp.