On The Banks Of Tennessee

i like this poem because of what it expresses

by william D. gallagher

I sit by the open window,
And look to the hills away,
Over beautiful undulations
That glow with the flowers of May;
And as the lights and the shadows
With the passing moments change,
Comes many a scene of beauty
Within my vision’s range.
But there is not one among them
That is half so dear to me
As an old log cabin I think of,
On the banks of the Tennessee.

Now up from the rolling meadows,
And down from the hilltops now,
Fresh breezes steal in at my window,
And sweetly fan my brow;
And the sounds that they gather and bring me.
From rivulet, meadow, and hill,
Come in with a touching cadence,
And my throbbing bosom fill;
But the dearest thoughts thus wakened,
And in tears brought back to me,
Cluster ’round that old log cabin
On the banks of the Tennessee.

To many a fond remembrance
My thoughts are backward cast,
As I sit by the open window
And recall the faded past;
For all along the windings
Of the ever moving years
Lie wrecks of hope and of purpose,
That I now behold through tears;
And, of all of them, the saddest
That is thus brought back to me
Makes holy that old log cabin
On the banks of the Tennessee.

Glad voices now greet me daily,
Sweet faces I oft behold,
Yet I sit by the open window,
And dream of the times of old—
Of a voice that on earth is silent,
Of a face that is seen no more,
Of a spirit that faltered not ever
In the struggles of days now o’er;
And a beautiful grave comes pictured
For ever and ever to me,
From a knoll near that old log cabin
On the banks of the Tennessee.

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