The tree-lined lane was dusty,
Old Prince was mighty slow
But who had time to notice
If he should stop or go.
Bright goldenrod was blooming
And autumn leaves were red
While soft-eyed night had scattered
Cool starlight overhead.
The plaintive sound of whippoorwills
Sighed from the shadowed hills,
And water sang a lullaby
Around the mossy mill.
With lines looped loosely to the whip
And gold moon overhead,
Oh, what a sweet communion, though
A word need not be said.
True love had time to blossom
In many gentle ways…
Young hearts enjoyed sweet quiet times
In horse-and-buggy days.