Lit2Go

There’s a phrase we heard so often
In the days not long ago;
And the words—as always—soften;—
Bring the ache such mem’ries know;

I can hear—my father’s saying:—
—”When the groves begin to bear!”

There’s the rooms of our old cabin:
There’s our parents talking slow:
And a hush of childish “gabbin,”
As we hear so grave and low;

“Yes;—we—will”—my father’saying:—
“When the groves begin to bear!”

In the days when all was labor,
From the morn past evening’s sun:
Nor the time to even “neighbor;”
Not an hour for any fun;—

“But we will”—my father’s saying:—
—”When the groves begin to bear!”

Oh, that brave and hopeful saying!
And that kept our hearts alive;
When his iron will-pow’r, staying,
Only kept us in the drive!

Those heart’ning words!—my father’s saying:—
—”When the grove begin to bear!”

When the freeze and “drown’d—out” got us,
Sometimes then, as I recall;
There was only one thing brought us
Out the dark and hopeless pall;—

“Still the trees!”—my father’s saying:—
—”When the groves begin to bear!”

And the pang to know that after
All these hopes—so long deferred:—
When came chance for joy and laughter:—
He never shared the boons conferred.

He was not here to prove his saying:—
—When the groves began to bear!

Still;—I know that over Yonder—
There—the groves are golden:—yet,—
—There he sits in hopeful ponder
O’er the Trees he also set:—

...I can hear—my father’s saying:—
—”When those groves begin to bear!”