! Forsaken is the swimming hole that lies back of the hill;There’s no flowers on the honeysuckle vine;But the ground with snow is covered, so my heart is happy still, For I’m voting for the winter every time.You may brag about the summer ! and the spring-time if you will; • You may sing about the autumn with its harvests rich and fine;But the snow flakes softly falling | bring to me a greater thrill,So I’m voting for the winter every time.Of course I love the fragrant flowers, and the grass so green and sweet,And I’m fond of water melons that I pull from off the vine;But with these we get a mixture of the summer's sultry heat,So I’m voting for the winter everytime.It’s too cold to go a fishing and camp in some mountain shack Far away from all the city's noiseand grime;But we can go hunting and through the snow the rabbits track;The sport’s as fine as fishing anytime. .—ZEB H. WOLFE,The Plumber Poet,’’ Easley4 * ‘ r • * * t -R}