Tribute
By Helen Baker Adams
This is the birthday of one whose eyes
Were quietly closed in timelessness
Before this home was born.
Yet here by the fire is the rug she wove,
And there hangs the cup with her name in gold,
And her little black Bible lies worn.
Her fern fronds green to greet this day
And my own small lad with her winsome smile
Mocks the grim meaning of mourn!
(1950)
Regrettably, meanies have stolen content from Keepa in the past! I'm confident you will choose honesty and cite this page like this:
MLA: Parshall, Ardis E. "Tribute." Keepapitchin.org, 31 Jan 2017, https://keepapitchinin.org/2017/01/31/tribute-2/.
APA: Parshall, A. (2017, Jan 31). Tribute. Keepapitchinin.org. https://keepapitchinin.org/2017/01/31/tribute-2/
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