Old Louisville, Ky.

I recall Louisville As a half forgotten dream Of old stone front mansions Where horses' hooves clopped Over rough cobblestones And out dusty lanes to the park. Behind wrought iron fences We children rolled hoops, Begged permission to buy pickles From an old wooden barrel At a store where candy In shining jars took us A long time to decide How to spend our pennies. At home there was fried chicken, Mashed potatoes and vegetables Served on silver platters And little tea sandwiches In tasty combinations I have not seen since, Followed by rich chocolates From far away Frankfort. Here and there a fountain or statue Dreams of the past where old mansions, Many now rooming houses, Reflect a haunting splendor. A breath away are concrete highways Lined with shiny cars and motels But here in this quaint court Light shines calmly Through latticed windows And if one listens closely He still can hear The slow clop, clop of the past.

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