Books Should Be Free
Loyal Books
Free Public Domain Audiobooks & eBook Downloads
Search by: Title, Author or Keyword

Legend of Barkhamsted Light House A Tale from the Litchfield Hills of Connecticut   By:

Book cover

First Page:

THE LEGEND OF BARKHAMSTED LIGHT HOUSE A Tale from the Litchfield Hills of Connecticut

By LEWIS SPRAGUE MILLS September 5, 1874, Collinsville, Conn. March 7, 1965 East Hartford, Conn.

1. IN THIS LAND IS THE LOCATION, PLACE AND SCENERY OF MY STORY

This legend lingers in the vale, Like a mist upon the river, And children listen to the tale, When the wind is in the chimney.

In the Land of Wooden Nutmegs, In the Land of Steady Habits, In the rugged Mountain County, In the town of fair Barkhamsted Near the winding Tunxis River, Where the thrifty farmers labor From the rising to the setting Of the sun across the meadows, And the whip poor wills come calling, From the dark'ning fields and woodlands, Calling through the misty shadows, Till the lonely night has fallen, Lingers still this Light House Legend.

In the narrow, rocky valley Near the winding Tunxis River, Where the moon above the hill tops, Shining big and round and yellow, Lights the farmers' weary foot steps, As they slowly leave their labors, In the fields and rocky pastures, Looking towards the homes they've builded Here beside the quiet Tunxis Where they eat their frugal suppers And retire on beds of feathers, Lingers still this Light House Legend.

Midst the roaring winds of winter, Near the winding Tunxis River, Where the busy flax wheel's turning With the yellow threads for linen, And the clanking loom is busy With the warp and woof of clothing, And the carpet loom and spool wheel, Ever ready for the toilers, Clutter up the farmers' kitchens And the candles flicker darkly When the wintry blasts come creeping Through the drafty window casements, Lingers still this Light House Legend.

In the houses of the farmers, Near the winding Tunxis River, Where 'the logs are burning slowly, In the great old fashioned fire place With the kettle hanging, swinging, And the wind outside is howling Roaring down the Tunxis Valley, Piling high the snows of winter On the road way and the river 'Till the fox can hardly travel, Hunting for his chicken supper, Lingers still this Light House Legend.

O'er the hill side and the meadows Near the winding Tunxis River, Where the hawk is hunting chickens, As they scratch around the farmyard, Knowing not the hawk is sitting, Watching from the lofty oak tree, Thinking of a juicy chicken As a royal treat for dinner, Lingers still this Light House Legend.

In the winter and the summer, Near the winding Tunxis River, Where the oxen turn the furrows, And the house wives do the milking, Where the windy roads are drifted And the spring time mud is deepest, When the south wind melts the snow banks; Where the winters are the coldest, And the summers are the hottest Listen to the locusts singing In the trees beside the hay field, See the thunder heads are rising High above the hazy mountain; See the sturdy farmers hasten With the loading of the hay carts, Ere the coming of the shower, Lingers still this Light House Legend.

Midst the forest on the hill side Near the winding Tunxis River, Where, beside the granite boulders Indian pipes, so white and fragile, Bloom and blush in lovely silence, Safely hidden, unmolested, In the rugged Mountain County, In their shady, woodland bowers. Is the site of ancient cabins, Was the home of Molly Barber.

In this Land of Wooden Nutmegs, In this Land of Steady Habits, In the rugged Mountain County, In the town of fair Barkhamsted, Near the winding Tunxis River, Where the groaning mills and presses. Flow with sweet and luscious cider, In the sunny days of autumn, Lingers yet this ancient legend, Told by fathers to their children, Gathered round the supper table, When the candle light is feeble And the wind is in the chimney

In this Land of toil and business, In this land of sun and shadow, On the slope beside the river, Is the place and true location, Of this ancient Light House legend.

2. DWELT A PEOPLE PARTLY INDIAN.

Where the Tunxis wanders down, Twixt the mountains, rolling southward, In beauty through Barkhamsted Town, Dwelt a people partly Indian... Continue reading book >>




eBook Downloads
ePUB eBook
• iBooks for iPhone and iPad
• Nook
• Sony Reader
Kindle eBook
• Mobi file format for Kindle
Read eBook
• Load eBook in browser
Text File eBook
• Computers
• Windows
• Mac

Review this book



Popular Genres
More Genres
Languages
Paid Books