Just Folks

Vacation Time

          Vacation time! How glad it seemed
          When as a boy I sat and dreamed
          Above my school books, of the fun
          That I should claim when toil was done;
          And, Oh, how oft my youthful eye
          Went wandering with the patch of sky
          That drifted by the window panes
          O'er pleasant fields and dusty lanes,
          Where I would race and romp and shout
          The very moment school was out.
          My artful little fingers then
          Feigned labor with the ink and pen,
          But heart and mind were far away,
          Engaged in some glad bit of play.
          The last two weeks dragged slowly by;
          Time hadn't then learned how to fly.
          It seemed the clock upon the wall
          From hour to hour could only crawl,
          And when the teacher called my name,
          Unto my cheeks the crimson came,
          For I could give no answer clear
          To questions that I didn't hear.
          "Wool gathering, were you?" oft she said
          And smiled to see me blushing red.
          Her voice had roused me from a dream
          Where I was fishing in a stream,
          And, if I now recall it right,
          Just at the time I had a bite.

          And now my youngsters dream of play
          In just the very selfsame way;
          And they complain that time is slow
          And that the term will never go.
          Their little minds with plans are filled
          For joyous hours they soon will build,
          And it is vain for me to say,
          That have grown old and wise and gray,
          That time is swift, and joy is brief;
          They'll put no faith in such belief.
          To youthful hearts that long for play
          Time is a laggard on the way.
          'Twas, Oh, so slow to me back then
          Ere I had learned the ways of men!