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The Abandoned Farm

by Charles A. Heath

There is somebody's home which is vacant today,
All abandoned and lonely it stood,
Over back on" the road at the head of the bay,
Where a farm was cut out in the wood.

There was hope in some heart and a gleam in some eye,
As he chopped and he built and he cleared;
Then the cut-over land soon was waving with rye,
And abundant ripe harvests appeared.

From his labor's award he erected his barns
And a home where was plenty to eat,
While his wife knit the wool from the softest of yarns
And their lot was there truly complete.

There I passed but today and the place was all bare.
Not a lad nor a lassie was seen.
The abandoned old home was a home of despair,
And the weeds hid the porch with a screen.

There I listened the while as a story was told
By the shuttered old windows and shed,
That there came from the city the lure of its gold,
And the hopes on a farm all had fled.

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