God bless the little orchard brown
Where the sap stirs these quickening days.
Soon in a white and rosy gown
The trees will give great praise.
God knows I have it in my mind,
The white house with the golden eaves.
God knows since it is left behind
That something grieves and grieves.
God keep the small house in his care,
The garden bordered all in box,
Where primulas and wallflowers are
And crocuses in flocks.
God keep the little rooms that ope
One to another, swathed in green,
Where honeysuckle lifts her cup
With jessamine between.
God bless the quiet old grey head
That dreams beside the fire of me,
And makes home there for me indeed
Over the Irish Sea.
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Comments2Reminds me of "the white house with golden eaves" from my youth. Bit nostalgic.
Read Katharine Tynan's work again after so many years. Her language, it didn't move me as it did back then. I mean, there's somethin' to it, but it didn't hit me, y'know. Still, it's kinda nostalgic reading it now. Would've expected to like it more though.