My Stage

The boundless world it is my stage,

     The hills and dales my scene;

Real water from my lakes of blue

     Flow down each wild ravine.

The actors are good friends of mine

     Who daily play their roles;

And off or on the stage I find

     Them true and loyal souls.

Life brings a new play every day,

     Some hero takes the lead;

Some moral lesson is portrayed

     To meet the world’s great need.

Alas! Some villain lurks behind

     The scenes as in the play,

But who receives his just deserts

     The good, old fashioned way.

The orchestra I love to hear

     Comes from the woodland deep,

It is the tuneful song of birds

     The winds that wail and sweep.

The lark plays well upon the flute,

     The bullfrog is the bass;

The partridge drums, and “Bob White” calls

     The players into place.

The boundless world it is my stage,      

     Out in the everywhere;

I would not miss a single act

Performed by players there.

I would not miss the orchestra,

     And even at the close,

When night has forced the curtain down

     I find a sweet repose.

Oct. 3, ‘10