A Tramp's Reverie
by - Grace Pool(Daniels) at age 12

The sun was sinking in the west
The wind was softly blowing.
An old man sat him down to rest
Beside a river flowing.

His form was bent, his hair was gray
His clothes were old and faded,
And the last light of passing day
Fell on him, worn and jaded.

He put his hand up to his eyes
And looked unto the mountains,
That rose into the deep blue skies,
And then drank from the fountain.

He was thinking of the days that had passed
When he was but a boy.
So many years had flown so fast,
Gone were the days of joy.

He, when a boy, lived on a farm.
He had a cozy home.
But his one great ambition was
The great wide world to roam.

He wanted to be famous,
His name to be renowned,
But how he was to do this,
That yet was to be found.

At length he left his home and friends
For greater deeds to do.
And went to make his fortune
Never thinking he would rue.

His little hoard of money
Soon vanished like the snow.
And then he was left penniless
Without a place to go.

So he wandered aimlessly about
A tramp without a home.
Till old age stared him in the face
He, without friends, alone.

As he sat there in the twilight,
A traveler worn and weak,
At the thoughts of his old house
A great tear rolled down his cheek.