Page:Poems Crandall.djvu/70

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I saw a wonderful picture
  Called home, so fair did it seem
That afar thro' all the country rang
  The fame of the artist's dream.

But I know a humble farmer
  Who chose him a modest bride,
And fashioned a home—a happy home,
  And what so e'er betide,

As years pass on and trials
  Come to them as to us all,
And life's small disappointments
  Like the leaves of Autumn fall;

No harsh word ever grieves her,
  The loved one by his side;
As tenderly he cares for her,
  As for his girlish bride.

Tho' the baby cry till midnight
  And breakfast too is late,
Tho' Johnnie has lost the hammer
  And Charlie has broken the gate,

His ways are always gentle,
  His words are always kind.
Small things indeed, that serve to show
  The man's most noble mind.

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