Produced by David Widger from page images generously
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THE OLD LOG CABIN.

By Lucian B. Watkins.

1910

[Illustration: 0001]

[Illustration: 0002]



          Maternal Eden! Cradle of the night

               Before the hailed Aurora of the dawn

          Of present day. Thy roof revealed the light

               Of beck'ning stars, where many souls were

                    drawn

          In inspirations of a worthy aim

          That marked the nucleus of a noble name.



          The poor and lowly trusted to thy care

               Found rugged strength and faith-inspired heart;

          Thou gav'st the whisper with thy simple fare

               That would not let the light of hope depart.

          The fragrance of their forest-scented dream

          Spoke ever of a human height supreme.



          Thy gift is in the background of the past

               Of many lives that tower in the sky;

          The flicker of thy candle light is cast

               In radiance manifold of blessings high.

          Yea, many human pinnacles of earth

          Walked from the portal of thy humble birth.



          Though now eclipsed by present palace hall,

               Where all the suns of civilization lay.

          The splendors of their beauties over all,

               Thou art the father of the glowing day.

          The White House of the blessed Lincoln goal

          Was but the evolution of thy soul.