Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from Blossoms: A Book of Poems
I was searching in tho garret, one misty, rainy day, Passing 'mid the chests and boxes the lonely hours a way, Finding rare and ancient treasures of the days of yore, Which would nevermore be needed, - nevermore. I sat there sadly thinking of the by-gone, 'youthful years, That ere as full of pleasure as the present was of tears, When, in a distant corner, Grandma's spinning wheel I spied, Man y years it had stood there, ever since the day she died. Oh. The many recollections that came thronging to me then, As I thought of vanished pictures, of times that once had been, 1 wandered back to childhood's artless, happy days, Ere I knew pain or sorrow or the world's deceitful ways. Once more I heard the stories told by grandma, as she spun, And across the broad, white ?oor saw the golden sun beams run. But a time ca1ne§whcn forever ceased the wheel's loud hum, And the voice that told the stories, was in death forever dumb. When the wrinkled, trembling hands that ne'er lay in idle rest, Were folded white as marble, 011 a cold and pulseless breast; We missed the dear old grandma when her form was laid away, A 11 1 our sorrow, it was almost too deep for us to pray A nd when, back to the homestead, I came from o'er the sea, I found no one waiting here, no one to welcome me; Fo1 all familiar faces were hidden 'neath the sod. While their spirits had ascended to their home with God. 1 a 11 growing older, grayer, as the days glide slowly by. And the time comes soon or late when I too must die. And, like me, this spinning-wheel is growing older, day by day, It I'll keep, a sacred treasure, till we both to dust decay.
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