Old Frankfort Town
by Ella Hutchison Ellwanger
When days are drear and friends are few,
And nothing seems this heart to rest,
I close my eyes while fancy takes me back
To the old Kentucky home that I loved the best—
Old Frankfort Town.
I’m far from those I love and thee tonight,
Yet still I seem to see, nestling amid the hills,
Protectingly—as if to keep from ills
Old Frankfort Town.
Again I cross the bridge and stand entranced!
The moon, the stars reflected in the stream
That hurries by, nor heeds the firefly dance,
Nor stars, nor moon, nor lights that gleam
O’er Frankfort Town.
No Swedish mountaineer could ever feel
More pangs than I, estranged from hill and home;
In dreams I smell the limestone of the “pikes’—
One day I’ll travel back, no more to roam—
Old Frankfort Town.
I know a light burns ‘cross the river there,
And ‘gainst the glass is pressed a sweet, expectant face;
I know a pair of lips oft move in prayer
That “He will keep me till I come, through his grace,”
To Old Frankfort Town.