they heartily welcome the same summer rain and bow their good wishes to neighborly trees the bright yellow dandelions fresco the ground the honey-bees swarm where the ivy vines cling all swarm as my thoughts where sweet mem'ries surround the picture of youth and the box-elder swing the old wood-land pathway that curves thro the glader the path that has so often guided my feet — will no longer lead to the elder's cool shade where i sat to repose from the mid summer heat tis now over-grown with an acre of weeds where the nettle lays low with his treacherous sting but with food for the dreams my good memory feeds on the scenes that surround the old box-elder swing the sweet crystal spring at the foot of the path darts upward and down with a transparent flow and the same happy sparrows indulge in their bath as they did in the sweet thirty summers ago i can hear the same mourning dove cooing his pliant i can hear the same whip-poor-will trimming his wing what a picture twould be for an artist to paint ! this picture of life at the box-elder swing the glorious sun broke its smile through the face of the oak and the aspen the elder and ash and the ground was a net work of intricate lace daily bathed in the spray of the brooklets cool splash the swing told its secrets from morn until eve — the secrets so precious to boyhood's bright spring tis a a treasure and gem that behind me i leave : this sweet charm of childhood — the box-elder swing from a world of contentment good times on a farm — i have memories treasured that gold cannot buy about them my heart holds a hypnotic charm ; the stream of rememb'rance shall never run dry myron wade sarah tracy