stful bed,
A place to wear the faded silk
And a pillow for the aching head;

A kettle that sings while the night wind sighs,
And a cup of tea to drink;
A hearth to sweep and a babe that cries,
With a pile of dishes in the sink.

A home to keep and a man to love,
With a heart that is true and fine.
These precious things sent from heaven above,
Will be prized for yours and for mine.

THE UNBIDDEN TEARS

Glad tears that rush like rivers down the cheek
Like gilding gold of morning's amber light.
O happy hearts, by hearths when wills are meek!
We welcome sun that chased away the night.
The weeping eyes will not acknowledge hate.
When lovers meet forgiven after pain,
Tears cleanse the heart and mind of fire and mote,
And freshen countenance and bleach the stain.
O rain of peace, that washes doubt away,
And casts a burden from the heart and home.
Sad hearts in joy united on this day;
Now buds will bloom again in garden loam.
Glad tears that come unbidden thus and free
Have banished care and brought you back to me.

THE PROMISE OF SPRING

Today resplendent in red, grays and gold,
No wind disturbs the calm of Winter's rest,
But quiet and serene on earth's broad breast
Is shrub and bush and seed in loamy hold;
The buds on elm are waiting to unfold,
Our biddie hen wears crimson on her crest.
This gorgeous day, when children laugh and jest,
And run and dance and not a thought withhold.

For Winter's frost was gone at early noon.
We know that Spring will come on southern breeze;
The grass will green and roses bloom again.
We love the flowers, summer warmth and boon,
O joy of earth, in green and swaying trees,
In buds and bees on this broad prairie plain.

THE DAYS LIVE AGAIN

O hallowed charm of long departed days;
The good and bad blend in a sparkling stream.
If one recalls youth's glad and care free ways;
The distant roar of music is supreme,
When viewing life's almost forgotten trail.
There is a stream that twines its way about
Through shady spots, by broken, rotted rail.
The falling water glitters, and the trout,
Again, like precious memories, flash and dart.
Through bleak and cold, a precipice once crossed
Still fills with pride and pain the aging heart;
For time has now the thorns and rocks embossed,
And thus the long dead past is always bright,
For those whose sun is sinkin