My Rocking-Chair
When I am old and worse for wear
I want to buy a rocking—chair,
And set it on a porch where shine
The stars of morning—glory vine;
With just beyond, a gleam of grass,
A shady street where people pass;
And some who come with time to spare,
To yarn beside my rocking—chair.
Then I will light my corn—cob pipe
And dose and dream and rarely gripe.
My morning paper on my knee
I won’t allow to worry me.
For if I know the latest news
Is bad,—to read it I’ll refuse,
Since I have always tried to see
The side of life that clicks with glee.
And looking back with days nigh done,
I feel I’ve had a heap of fun.
Of course I guess that more or less
It’s you yourself make happiness
And if your needs are small and few,
Like me you may be happy too:
And end up with a hope, a prayer,
A chuckle in a rocking—chair.
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