With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone -- wherever it goes -- for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve.
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long --
So why in-Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
(Scott -- this is for you.)
One of my granddaughters informed us that the robins have returned and was all over her yard. Some robins are here all winter, but when the migrating robins come back to West Virginia (that should be a song!) usually spring is not far behind. From the sound of the latest forecasts, we may be in for a lot of winter weather yet. As Mom used to say, "Spring will come -- it always has!"
We received a poem request from Kathy Manley of Logan for a poem her father used to recite. She only remembers bits and pieces of it, including "oysters on the half-shell" -- "chicken soup and mutton" -- "mulligatawny soup." Is this familiar to anyone?
We will end with this poem -- it's full of hope.
Hark! The hours are softly calling
Bidding Spring arise
To listen to the rain-drops falling
From the cloudy skies
To listen to Earth's weary voices
Louder every day
Bidding her no longer linger
On her charm'd way
But hasten to her task of beauty
Scarcely yet begun.
By Adelaide Anne Proctor
Contact Alyce Faye Bragg at alycef...@citlink.net or write to 2556 Summers Fork Road, Ovapa, WV 25164.