Womack Springs

O to climb those hills,
To Womack Springs.
To know sweet joy,
That vision brings.

To cast my eyes,
On the lay of the land.
And to call barren wastes,
A place that is grand.

And to remember there,
When I was young.
When the brown-bird flitted,
And stopped, and sung.

When the little old river,
Was far below.
It was banked in willows,
And it ran so slow.

To pick for myself,
Those treasured things.
And to know that one,
Was Womack Springs.


E.P. 1908 - 1989