From the Rock Island Argus, March 12, 1913. By S. E. Kiser. We hurry through the busy days, We that within the cities dwell, And, having won a little praise For toiling hard or planning well, Turn homeward with a pride that dies Before another day has dawned And we again pursue the prize That always lies so far beyond. We have our little triumphs who Among the eager thousands strive; Each busy day brings something new To keep our feeble hopes alive, But sweeter than the fairest gains The cities yield us are the joys That come in dreams of country lanes Down which we strolled when we were boys. We nurse ambitions that are fair, And struggle on to win renown, But when the day ends with its care, We still dream of the little town Or of the orchard where the breeze Once stirred the fragrant buds in May; We keep the sweet old memories, It matters not how far we stray.