The Old Log Cabin by Watkins, Lucian Bottow

provided by the Internet Archive


By Lucian B. Watkins.


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[Illustration: 0002]

Maternal Eden! Cradle of the night

Before the hailed Aurora of the dawn

Of present day. Thy roof revealed the light

Of beck'ning stars, where many souls were


In inspirations of a worthy aim

That marked the nucleus of a noble name.

The poor and lowly trusted to thy care

Found rugged strength and faith-inspired heart;

Thou gav'st the whisper with thy simple fare

That would not let the light of hope depart.

The fragrance of their forest-scented dream

Spoke ever of a human height supreme.

Thy gift is in the background of the past

Of many lives that tower in the sky;

The flicker of thy candle light is cast

In radiance manifold of blessings high.

Yea, many human pinnacles of earth

Walked from the portal of thy humble birth.

Though now eclipsed by present palace hall,

Where all the suns of civilization lay.

The splendors of their beauties over all,

Thou art the father of the glowing day.

The White House of the blessed Lincoln goal

Was but the evolution of thy soul.