At the Bars of Memory and Other Poems/Where The Grape Vine's Twinin' Still
WHERE THE GRAPE VINE'S TWININ' STILL
Sometimes when I get lonely an' everything looks so blue
An' a something here away down in my heart cries out to you:
I walk down through the meadows an' past the old grindin' mill
An' down to the rickety rail-fence where the grape vine's twinin' still.
I sort o' feel your presence when the wind sighs through the trees,
Fragrant with musk, an' drowsy with the hum o' honey bees;
I seem to hear your whispers an' my old heart seems to thrill
Beneath the spell o' fancy, where the grape vine's twinin' still.
I can feel your soft caresses a-brushin' ag'in my cheek,
Soft as the touch o' dragon-flies on the bosom o' the creek:
An' I hear your low-sung melodies as the shadows darken the hill,
An' the wind sobs in the thicket where the grape vine's twinin' still.
I just can't think you've left me, 'cause I feel your wind-blown hair
In the sunlight that filters an' flutters through the trees an' everywhere;
An' I can hear your laughter in the little ripplin' rill
That flows beneath the rail-fence where the grape vine's twinin' still.
Tonight my old heart is heavy, an' the call o' my soul's desire
Can't be found in the blue smoke circles that curl from this friendly briar.
For as I retrace my footsteps an' pass the old grindin' mill.
I seem to leave my heart right there where the grape vine's twinin' still.