McLarty, I can n't leave your house, Your darling daughter, charming spouse, Without at least a single rhyme Commemorating that sweet time
When I, with my beloved wife, Shared your dear home, with comforts rife. And now I backward cast my eye O'er eight-and-twenty years, gone by,
Since first to you the land I sold Which now you prize far more than gold. Ah, then with trees‘ twas covered o'er Thousands of which are now no more;
But in their stead rich, waving grain, On hill and dale and pleasant plain Abundant grows; and year by year Adds comforts to your home so dear.
Fair trout creek still flows softly by, Though not so pleasing to the eye, As when at first its stream I saw, So many, many years ago.
For then no logs unshapely, rude, Did on that beauteous creek intrude; But o'er its smooth and gravelly bed It held its course, and murmur shed
Like sweetest music on my ear, And made me long to live just here. But urgent duty called me hence, To scenes less pleasing to the sense
Of one who had a poet's eye For Nature's works. I bade good bye To what so quickly had become To me almost as dear as home.
And now, kind friends, we must return To that same home, while bosoms burn With platitude for kindness shown To those you had so little known.
We linger still:‘ tis hard to part From you, when fondly heart to heart Beats now, as if for years we'd been Fast bound in friendship's bands serene.
God bless you all! we fervent pray, And make you happier every day! Should we in future meet no more, O, may we all reach Canaan's shore.
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