A POEM

 

Mounted upon a beautiful slope, serene to the eyes soft scope. Studded with mansions, without a hut, is the quiet hamlet of Walnut.

The houses are frame, the stores are brick, the people who live there have not a mean trick. The lawns are beautiful, the sidewalks neat. To live in Walnut is quite a treat.

The town is growing so very fast, the houses are filled to the very last. And as I take the bird’s eye view, I see many houses that are nearly new.

As the spring begins to fade, and the summer throws its shade, the cattle in the fields appear, and for the frosts we have no fear.

 

The blossoms on the trees in profusion are ready for the busy bees intrusion. Some belong to the cherry, some to the peach. We hope to see the fruit within our reach.

Prosperous is the outlook for the year. It is only the cyclones that we fear. Sometimes they come in silence with rain, and sometimes with the alacrity of an express train.

 

As the seasons come and seasons go, some with sunshine and some with snow, many hearts are heavy, many are light. Yet we think Walnut to be just about right.

 

It is now the month of May, and I am going far away. But I will remember Walnut town, as a place of much renown.

Rev. E.F. James, 1906