AT MY LITTLE CABIN HOME
At my little cabin home,
In the timber by the Platte;
Have I ever cared to roam?
Go away, quit, forsake my little, cozy, quaint, Colorado home?
No, no; I could not,—could not think of that.
Happy as a monarch I reside,
In the forest by my native river-side.
In the valley of the Platte
I am plucking flowers to-day,
Early wildings of the May.
See! I’ve nearly filled my hat!
Ridge-flowers red, sand-lilies white,
Tufts of snowy-crested plumes;
Currants crowned with golden blooms;
Hawthorne-buds, bursting into light.
Strolling in the grove,
Gathering flowers for my love,
Gathering sweet flowers of the May
Oh, my heart, my heart is glad to-day!
From my little cabin home
By the swiftly-flowing Platte,
Where the trout grow large and fat,
Have I ever cared to roam?
Go away, quit, forsake my little, cozy, quaint, Colorado home?
No, no; I could not,—could not think of that.
Happy as a monarch I reside
In the forest by my native river-side.