The Quiet Cabin

The day is quiet and still,
as I lie here,
thinking about a cabin,
a cabin high on a hill.
That old cabin,
about a mile from the road,
on both sides of the driveway,
rows of red pine have growed.
It was late in the fall,
my last time there,
the cabin was nestled,
nestled in brilliant colors,
O, how beautiful, how fare.
As I think and dream,
about that cabin so fare,
O, how I wish, I was there!