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.