Saturday, May 28, 2011

Back on the trails

To an Old Camper
By Mary S. Edgar

You may think my dear, when you grow quite old
You have left camp days behind,
But I know the scent of wood smoke
Will always call to mind
Little fires at twilight
And trails you used to find.

You may think someday you have quite grown up
And feel so worldly wise,
But suddenly from out of the past
A vision will arise
Of merry folk with brown bare knees
And laughter in their eyes.

You may live in a house built to your tastes
In the nicest part of town,
But someday for your old camp togs
You'd change your latest gown
And trade it for a balsam bed
Where stars all night look down.

You may find yourself grown wealthy
Have all that gold can buy,
But you'd toss aside a fortune
For days 'neath an open sky
With sunlight and blue water
And white clouds sailing by.

For once you have been a camper
Then something has come to stay
Deep in your heart forever
Which nothing can take away,
And heaven can only be heaven,
With a camp in which to play.


At camp for Memorial Day weekend, and couldn't be happier.

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