by Edgar A. Guest
In forty years we've changed the world
And traded many things.
We've banished glowing stoves to gain
The warmth the furnace brings.
We've polished off discomforts with
Invention's magic art;
We've built the "press-the-button" age
When countless motors start.
But thinking of my boyhood days,
We lost a joy, I'll say,
When faithful horse and cutter were
Forever put away.
For when there comes a fall of snow,
I find for them I mourn
And that strap of tinkling sleigh bells
Supplanted with a horn.
We give up youth for mellow age;
Each forward step we take
To reach a joy which lies ahead
An old charm we forsake.
We deal and barter through the years
Old customs for the new,
Find easier ways to do the tasks
Once difficult to do.
But sometime as we move along
To build the better day,
We learn we've been compelled to throw
A lovely thing away.
And thinking of my boyhood days
To this I will be sworn;
Sleigh bell sang a prettier song
Than any motor horn.