When David and Goliath met,
    My heart on the fight would have certainly set.

    And yet there was much for a bashful boy
    To gather up and remember with joy.

    God bless my grandsire’s simple heart,
    Which made up in faith what it lacked in art,

    And led me on to the best of the knowledge
    Which years thereafter I carried to college.

    Tending the cattle stalled in the “linter,”
    Going to school eight weeks in the Winter;

    Planting and hoeing potatoes and corn,
    Milking the cows at night and morn;

    Spreading and raking the new-mown hay,
    Stowing it in the mow away;

    Gathering apples, and thinking of all
    The joys of Thanksgiving late in the Fall—­

    So passed I the years in such like scenes
    Until I had grown well into my teens.

    And then, with many a dream in my heart,
    I struck for myself and a nobler part;

    I hardly knew what, yet some higher good,
    Earning and spending as fast as I could;

    Earning and spending in teaching and going
    To school, what time I to manhood was growing.

    My maiden aunt—­and Providence
    Is approved in its blessed consequence—­

    That baby of twenty, to thirty had grown,
    And from the nest had not yet flown.

    And a childless aunt, my uncle’s wife,
    Had come to gladden that quiet life.

    God bless them both, for they were ever
    The foremost to second my life’s endeavor.

    Our aunts sometimes are almost mothers,
    Toiling and planning and spending for others.

    Aunt Hannah, the maiden; Aunt Emily, wife,—­
    How they labored to gird me for the strife,

    Cheering me on with words befitting,
    Doing my sewing and doing my knitting,

    And pressing upon me many a token
    Whose meaning was more than ever was spoken!

    At length the time for parting came—­
    They both in heaven will have true fame!

    They did not bid me good-bye at the stile;
    They with me went through the woods a mile.

    It was the still September time,
    When the Autumn fruits were in their prime.

    Here and there a patch of crimson was seen
    Where the breath of the early frost had been.

    The songs of the birds were tender and sad,
    Yet I could not say they were not glad.

    Nature’s soft and mellow undertone
    To a note-like trust in the Father had grown.

    And that trust, I ween, in our hearts had sway,
    As on through the woods we wended our way.

    Meeting and parting fringe life below;
    We parted—­twenty years ago.

    My aunts turned back, and on went I,
    Striving my burning tears to dry.