Seniors ScrapBook
The Family Circle
I think oftimes, as the night draws nigh,
of an old house on the hill,
Of a yard all wide and blossom-starred,
where the children played at will.
And when at last the night came down
Hushing the merry din,
Father would look around and ask,
"Are all the Children in"?
Tis many a year since then,
and then old house on the hill,
No longer echos the childish feet,
and the yard itis so still.
But I see it all, as the shadows creep,
and though many years since then,
I can still hear my daddy ask,
"Are all the Children in"?
