From The French Broad Hustler, April 23, 1908
The Cullasaja
(By Charlotte Young)
I wish you knew a way I know
Along the Cullasaja.
There, everything to quietness
And happy thoughts persuade you.
The river sings its own wild song
Around the rocky turnings,
There honey-suckles light the banks
With red and yellow burnings.
Along the cliffs the ferns uncurl,
And trails the pink arbutus,
And here the wood thrush lilts a song
As sweet as any flute is.
I wish you knew a way I know
By dreaming flowers and river,
The little cares that hurt you so
Would float away forever.
--Charlotte Young [1878-1985]
(By Charlotte Young)
I wish you knew a way I know
Along the Cullasaja.
There, everything to quietness
And happy thoughts persuade you.
The river sings its own wild song
Around the rocky turnings,
There honey-suckles light the banks
With red and yellow burnings.
Along the cliffs the ferns uncurl,
And trails the pink arbutus,
And here the wood thrush lilts a song
As sweet as any flute is.
I wish you knew a way I know
By dreaming flowers and river,
The little cares that hurt you so
Would float away forever.
--Charlotte Young [1878-1985]
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