Walnut.
Mounted upon a beautiful slope,
Serene, to the eyes soft scope,
Studded with mansions, without a hut
Is the quiet hamlet of Walnut.
The houses are frame, the stores are
brick,
The people who live there have not a
mean trick.
The lawns are beautiful, the sidewalks
neat,
To live in Walnut is quite a treat.
The town is growing so very fast,
The houses are filled to the very last,
And as I take the bird’s eye view,
I see many houses that are nearly new.
As the spring begins to fade,
And the summer throws its shade,
The cattle in the fields appear,
And for the frosts we have no fear.
The blossoms on the trees in profusion
Are ready for the busy bees intrusion,
Some belong to the cherry, some to
the peach.
We hope to see the fruit within our
reach.
Prosperous is the outlook for the year.
It is only the cyclones that we fear.
Sometimes they come in silence with
rain,
And sometimes with the alacrity of
an express train.
As the seasons come and seasons go,
Some with sunshine, some with snow,
Many hearts are heavy, many are
light.
Yet we think Walnut to be just about
right.
It is now the month of May,
And I am going far away,
But I will remember Walnut town
As a place of much renown.
— REV. E. F. JAMES
(The Walnut Bureau, May 25, 1906, p. 4)