'Tis another day is born.
A lad awakes and rises from his bed.
From the cabin door he greets the 'morn.
The sun glints on his shaggy head.
Than, having eaten simple fare.
To the silent woods he strides.
His axe all day is flashing there.
'till the sun at noonday rides.
The sun is low in the western sky.
'Ere a hungry lad returns.
To a humble cabin where he will lie.
By a fire place that burns.
In his stern school "Abe Lincoln" learned.
And into rugged manhood grew.
By ceaseless toil his way he learned.
His life of service knew.
Submitted by Richard Lancaster
Westfield