The Ottawa Free Trader

THE TWO FATHERS.

I made much of two kind old men,
And both to good attention bent
With genial smile and hearty grasp
And much to life its joys they lent.

And oft to say my wife and I
They'd come to chat, and joke, and dine
Dear loving fathers; gone, alas!
And one was hers and one was mine.

Their minds were just exactly one,
These good old fashioned, gentle creatures
They never told the same joke twice
Nor failed to watch each other's features
To note the proper time to laugh,
And wife and I would watch those fine
Old fathers, in their harmless mirth,
For one was hers, and one was mine.

They'd talk about the herds and crops
And often tell their old time stories,
Of Landlord Jones, the taverner,
Of trainings, elections, Whigs and Tories
And wife and I the evening through
Would listen to their talk till nine,
And then they'd bid us both adieu.
For one was hers, and one was mine.

They could not live alone, and so
They walked along life's way together,
And hand in hand they graveward went
And slipped the coil of earthly tether.
They clasped their hands in mute farewell
And clasped again where glories shine
While wife and I together weep,
For both were hers, and both were mine.

There are two graves on yonder hill,
And side by side the fathers lie,
Their jokes are hushed, the mirth has flown,
And softly each has said "Good by"
To earthly friends, and earthly homes.
And wife and I just sit and pine,
For these old gents, our fathers once,
And one was hers, and one was mine.

-Albert Lewis in Springfield Homestead