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    ON DUTY'S KNOB.   Table of Contents     MY NATIVE MOUNTAINS.

Smith, Effie Waller
Rhymes from the Cumberland



Up from the woodland pasture
Came farmer Thomson's son,
Driving his cattle homeward
At the setting of the sun.

The long, narrow, winding pathway
Was shaded here and there,
By stately growing elm trees
And fringed with flowers fair.

Down this narrow, winding pathway,
In homespun cotton gown,
Came Gracie, the youngest daughter
Of blacksmith William Brown.

Leisurely she tripped along,
Her feet were brown and bare;
Over her shoulders fluttered
Soft braids of auburn hair.

She knew she would meet young Thomson,
Her lover on the way,
Driving his cows from the pasture
His customed duty each day.

But now as she sees him she blushes
And twitches her pretty head,
And nervously fingers her apron
Of checkered white and red.

How his eyes beam with love-light as
He cries "Hello! Sweetheart Grace!"
And throws his arms about her,
And clasps her in fond embrace.

Onward, and down the pathway
The cattle slowly pass,
Nibbling at blossomed daisies
And bits of straggling grass,

The golden sun has sunk behind
The mountains steep and tall;
And the moon is shining brightly,
Twilight is over all.

Among the stately elm trees
The night winds softly sigh--
And still the lovers linger
Beneath the moonlit sky.

    ON DUTY'S KNOB.   Table of Contents     MY NATIVE MOUNTAINS.