And my darlings are all asleep,
I sit alone by my fireside
And sometimes I softly weep
And smetimes, I find myself laughing
And sometimes I softly sigh.
As memory comes back to me
Of the dear old days gone by.
Tonight, I am dreaming, dear Hettie
Of the joys we used to know,
Of the days we spent together
When we loved each other so.
There were days that were sad and dreary
And days that were filled with pain,
But some of those days were such happy days
I would gladly live those again.
If only again I could cross the road
To the house that you call home,
And feel as happy as I felt then,
When I found you all alone.
If only again we could wander
Along those winding ways
That led to the dear old swimming hole
As we did in other days.
If only again we could feel the thrill
That we felt in the long ago
When we played in the sparkling water
Where the willow boughs hung low.
The past holds many memories
That to me are more precious than gold;
And one of my heart's own treasures
Is the memory of the old swimming hole.
©circa late 1950's Carrie E. Joslin
Written to her friend Hettie Caldwell,
daughter of the Methodistpastor who
lived across the street from
the Bullard residence.