In Memory’s name I tread o’er trails
Where once the violets blue
Bedecked the green and shaded glades
That sheltered me and You.
The same old stream goes rippling by
Its banks o’er-clung with vine;
And the same old breeze is crooning
Its song amid the pines.
Across the old and purple hills
Sweet Echo laughs in glee;
Sends her call, the same old charm,
Again to you and me.
– Circa 1928