The below poem, written sometime between 1924 and 1942, is an ode to my grandfather’s family and the family farm on Academy Hill Rd. in Jackson Corners, Town of Milan, Dutchess County NY. I’ve transcribed it from the hand-written copy in my possession.

The author, William K Munro was born c. 1880 in Australia. He immigrated to New York State in 1874 and married Florence Kilmer, half-sister to Bertha Mae Kilmer, my great-grandmother. (1930 census Albany, Albany Co NY page #5A, ed. #1-51, fam. #88 & 1920 same location page #6B, ed #94, fam. #120)

Bertha is ‘Mom’ in this poem. She married Clayton Hermans (‘Pop’), son of Jacob Luther Hermans 1841-1924, the ‘Grampy’ and ‘Uncle Jake’ of the poem. William and Florence did not have any children of their own (1920 & 1930 census) as did many of Florence’s siblings, which might explain why he doted on his nieces and nephew so much.

My grandfather Walter Clayton Hermans 1915-1994 and his sisters Madge Julia Hermans Snedeker Petty and Louise Hermans Johnson Weiss are the ‘cute little tots’.

One Beautiful Dream

I am dreaming of a homestead upon a little hill
Where I visited very often, but seldom against my will
A mother standing by the door and shading eyes with hands
Peering up and down the sunny roads and across the woody lands

Those actions as I saw her, knew they were a mother’s love
Always a prayer upon her lips to one who is above
Ever anxious to see or hear the pattering of small feet
All the time worrying that an accident they should meet

Walter, Madge and Louise

And when the twilight’s ended and those shadows come again
I can hear those childish chatters, just before the sandman came
When suddenly as if by magic you couldn’t hear a peep
Then Mom’s cares are over, as they all are fast asleep

When the dawn did come at last with cloudy skies once more
Again was heard the pattering feet upon the bed-room floor
Not dreaming of the outside world, which sure was a sight
When looking out upon the ground, it was their great delight

Nature’s mantle so fine and soft lay there, yes, ’tis but a dream
Spreading oe’r the woody lands and that hilly road did screen
Oh Mom, where’s our rubbers and our sleds we cannot find
Oh dear, please hurry Mom this weather is divine

In Mom’s haste to find those things in nooks and places galore
Some squeals or childish laughter were coming thru the door
When looking out into the snow, goodness, lo and behold
Stood Louise in snow up to her knees and Madge and Walt as bold

Walt was out without his hat, Madge without her rubbers
Louise was stunting in the snow which that night did cause some blubbers
Mom was getting desperate, she didn’t know what to say
So took a chance upon them once and outside they did play

Great fun they were having scampering to and fro with glee
Not thinking of the night of sniffles and coughs that would surely be
What a busy night for Mom and Dad, including Grampy too.
Rubbing goose-oil and mustard on some chests and praying they’d pull thru

Jacob Luther “Jake” Hermans 1841-1924 with Louise and Madge c. 1914

After their troubles were over and the doctor went his way
Once more Mom’s heart beats quieted down as in the house they play
Cutting funny pictures from books and placing blocks in stacks
Dressing dolls, scribbling in books and mauling those poor cats

The days were getting longer now and outside they again did roam
Traveling over the woods and fields, but at meal-time sure came home
Pestering the chickens and turkeys, poking at a pig
If they saw a ground-hog, boy, wouldn’t he have to dig

Climbing rickety old fences, tearing stockings and shoes
Rushing around that farm at anything they choose
Teasing the fat old gobbler, making him puff and swell
Raising the dickens all over till Mom gave her famous yell

Madge you come right in this house, you also Louise
Now Walter’s crying, is it right of you girls to tease
Oh Mom, we didn’t bother him, just wanted him to play
But he had to go and beller because he slipped from off the hay

Helping Grampy feed the chickens, then those eggs they’d steal
Mooing to the pig pen when those pigs let out a squeal
Shooing pigeons from the roof, as they take their rest
But keeping their distance from hornets, which they knew was best

Wading in the creek, coming home with wet feet
Doing the most impossible stunts, most people wouldn’t seek
Chasing grass-hoppers and butterflies, sliding down the cellar door
Going to Mom with splintered fingers, next day they’d have some more

Finding of old dead sparrows, burying them with pomp
Crying over an old rag-doll that a picker wouldn’t want
Leaving carts and dolly carriages out in the path
Along comes Pop, hits one, then shows a little wrath

Walter, Madge and Louise (with cat in lower left)

Riding horses down the road just for their usual drink
Making guinea-fowls noisy and things you wouldn’t think
Hugging and pinching the puppy’s tails until they set up wails
Doing everything imaginable, probably cans attached to tails

Playing hide and seek around the house, shed and barn
Stepping on the kitten’s tails and didn’t give a darn
Leaving the screen door open, throwing sand in each others eyes
When Mom comes down from the up-stairs, the house was full of flies

Romping around the homestead, just doing as they please
Running close to hives out front, then getting stung by bees
Climbing that old apple-tree, skinning a few shins
The crawling home again at night with all but broken limbs

Chasing chickens from the road, sliding down the hay
Punching holes in screen-doors so flies could have their say
Tramping over to the woods, gathering nuts and flowers
Sneaking upon setting hens and getting soak in showers

No they didn’t hunt for snakes, but they might have stoned some frogs
Then coming home with sloppy clothes, in trying to cross those bogs
Twisting the calves’ tails so as to hear them bawl
They were afraid of nothing, these kids sure had gall

I know there were a bunch of sheep down on that farm
And I think they were the only ones that didn’t come to harm
The reason no harm came to them was on account of their lope
But if they couldn’t get a sheep they’d surely get your goat

Now remember folks some of this, ‘tis not a dream
I used to go there sometimes and this is what I’d seen
You see at that time they were such cute little tots
You couldn’t help but like them and I did lots

When I used to visit them, mornings I’d lay late in bed
They used to come like crazy Indians and leap upon your head
Sleep then was a thing of the past, you sure would get your digs
And then on top of all of that, Uncle Jake would feed the pigs

And when I speak of Uncle Jake, who long has passed away
And his love he had for others, I remember to this day
We are all slipping just like he, we’ll have no used for skids
He was devoted to you all, when you were little kids

My thoughts are often about him, I can see him on his farm
That good old soul was as fine as gold and with a certain charm
If you got into trouble, some scrape or some jams
No matter how it came out, you were his blessed little lambs

The Hermans farm in 1925

Now Mom and Pop are getting along, Mom’s hair retains its hue
While Pop’s is getting silvery, no doubt t’will happen to you
Time changes everything, but nothing really to cause any alarm
But did change three pair of pattering feet that echoed on that farm

– William K Munro