The Abandoned Farm

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.