To me it?s sacred ground of yesterday
For of it?s sand was formed my house of clay
The garden gave the food that I did eat
And summer heated sand off burning feet
The clustered memories of bygone days
And hosts of long lost loved ones 
Ever sang its praise

The picket -fence where it?s hollow post
The robins gay were nesting
The apple tree whose copious shade
Held weary forms while resting
The grapevine where the busy bee
Its sweet nectar was choosing
Oh city dwellers come with me
And see what you are losing

The huckleberries in the woods
The wintergreen upon the hill
In spring the lovely mushrooms
Grow lowly covered still
Just the other side of yonder rill

Dear country home! So dear to me
Through all the years of memory
Planted beside the forest bold
Why should I care if I grow old!

The buildings crumbling to decay
The dying trees of the orchard shade
The clearing away of brush and trees
Are likened to the falling of the leaves

Another year! Another age!
The years have turned page after page
But while I live its memory lingers on
The joys once known on that old farm
Where I was born

  And then we could rest, while we shelled the peas, 
  Under the shade of the maple trees
  We sat on the porch, in the evening cool
  And when we went to school
  We walked through the dust, mud or snow
  Down the country lane, no ride you know

   The teacher came early, on his horse
   And built us a fire of wood, of course
   He rapped our knuckles if we were late
   And taught us to cipher on our slates

   When I was a girl we learned to sew
   We made our dresses of calico
   With ruffles and bustles, tucks and pleats
   And saved all our scrapes, our quilts to piece
   We pieced our quilts that whole year through
   It was the summer of eighty - two

   And that, she said with a wistful sigh,
   Was years ago, how time does fly !
   On Sundays we plaited our hair
   And dressed in our calico all starched and pressed
   At our country church, on benches cold
   Sang those hymns of long ago

   ? Jesus Lover Of My Soul? ? In The Garden?
    And ? What A Friend?, while the preacher
    Preached for hours on end 
    And ? Rock of Ages Cleft For Me?
    I learned of my home that?s yet to be

    And now she lives in a home more fair
    Than eyes have seen, and the beauty there
    Is multiplied by a thousand fold
    O?er even her zinnias and marigolds
    In gardens blossoming fresh and new
    O?er even her quilts of every hue

    With joys far greater than she has known
    Than even when she was a girl at home

- My Mother

Tis just a forty acre farm
Bought many years ago
By those whose steps are feeble now
Whose hair is white above wrinkled brow
Once they were young their hopes were high
They built a modest house
Wee lads and lassies nestled there
To all t?was home sweet home
The door was always open wide
And many passed therein
The welcome shouts and festive hoard
Created quite a din
When all the aunts and uncles
And cousins by the score
We found each nook and cranny filled
It just could hold no more
But time moves on the children grown
Are scattered far and wide
While some within the church yard
Are sleeping side by side
And Father-Time has left his trace
On all who gathered there
The house is old. The trees most dead
There is silver in the hair
Of these two aged pioneers
And now the farm is sold
For soon the Lord may claim them
To be gathered to His fold
And you in faith, hath purchased
The land and buildings old
But there are many memories
Which never can be sold 
That?s why I send this greeting
At this time of the year
Though it never brought it?s owner
Vast wealth and precious gold
It had a hidden value
Which perhaps was never told
There was always wealth of sunshine
And friendliness and cheer
All those who crossed the threshold
Returned year after year
Somehow I feel its purchase
Will bring good luck to you
And I?m wishing happy journeying
As life?s paths you travel through

At the long and outstretched table
There was set a goodly hoard
And the uncles, aunts and cousins
Ever gathered at that board

Uncle Frank and dear Aunt Maggie
Were the names we often heard
But  the cost and hard work garnered
To these guests, it never occurred

They enjoyed the simple living
Far away from city din
And each year when came vacation
All their children tumbled in 

Cousins came from Cincinnati
And Toledo, Elkhart too
And a bunch of them from Cleveland
More prolific each branch grew

But dear good old Aunt Maggie
With her cookies, filled her churn
Made that sweet good homemade butter
Baked her bread, but e?er did yearn

Eyes are dim now, lovely waiting
Tired hands are folded now
Steps are slow and weak and faltering
Care worn furrows crease her brow

Long years gone so gay and sunny
She was young and husband beside her
She came laughing to a clapboard house
A vision now of bride, a blurr

Planted roses by the doorstep
Laughter in her Irish eyes
Hopes were peeping through the window
But alas! , How soon they died

All the land was rough and rugged
Swamps and bushes everywhere
Toil and illness soon came running
Everywhere they needed her care

But her youth would smile and answer
We will win and never fear
Yet those hands became more careworn
As year goes into years
For a little peace and quiet
Not quite such a heavy load
But instead now came the parents
Marching down that dusty road

I can hear that noise and laughter
From my childhood?s happy days
Also I wondered why my Mother
Never joined it, she had such quiet ways

When the table groaned with victuals
Such as she could only spread
And the guests were all surrounded
Suddenly, dear Mother fled

For outside in the orchard
To the old chain swing she crept
And while they all ate and feasted
She would swing and wipe the sweat

From her creased and care lined forehead
And they all would call her queer
Wondered  why she never mingled
With them in their merry cheer

Then when they had fully feasted
Out they went back in the sun
Mother crept through the back doorway
Washed those dishes everyone!

Tended babies, did the washing
Scrubbed and cooked from morn til night
And we often heard the humming
Of her sewing machine a going
By a flickering kerosene light

So the years in quick succession
Saw her grow both weak and old
But the burdens never lifted
From those shoulders hopes grew cold

Something stern and hard and better
Formed within that care worn form
Who had never known an idle day
Since the time when she was born

Now she?s old and worn and fragile
As a weak and tender flower
But I?d love to gather roses
Place her in a leafy bower

She?s my Mother. May God Bless Her!
And her worried care worn brow
Bless the scars that she has garnered
From the toil that?s over now

Please restore to her the love light
In those dancing Irish eyes
Fill her heart with love and laughter
Let her smile with sweet surprise

There are long lost hopes long buried
Dig them up and let them grow
Please restore the inky blackness
To that hair now white with snow

Give back youth and merry laughter
All the bright dreams she once had
Send her down another pathway
Where?s there?s naught to make her sad.

I Love You Mother, Lillie