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The Poplars Post by :merchantmission Category :Poems Author :Theodosia Garrison Date :November 2011 Read :3136

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The Poplars

My poplars are like ladies trim,
Each conscious of her own estate;
In costume somewhat over prim,
In manner cordially sedate,
Like two old neighbours met to chat
Beside my garden gate.

My stately old aristocrats--
I fancy still their talk must be
Of rose-conserves and Persian cats,
And lavender and Indian tea;--
I wonder sometimes as I pass
If they approve of me.

I give them greeting night and morn,
I like to think they answer, too,
With that benign assurance born
When youth gives age the reverence due,
And bend their wise heads as I go
As courteous ladies do.

Long may you stand before my door,
Oh, kindly neighbours garbed in green,
And bend with rustling welcome o'er
The many friends who pass between;
And where the little children play
Look down with gracious mien.

(The end)
Theodosia Garrison's poem: Poplars

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The Little Joys The Little Joys

The Little Joys
My little joys went by me As little children run Across the fields at sunset When playing time is done. And now alone at twilight What is there may content The heart that loved their laughter And frolic merriment? Ah well, who knows but still may dawn Another fairer day Wherein my little joys may come

The Return (i Come To You Grown Weary Of Much Laughter) The Return (i Come To You Grown Weary Of Much Laughter)

The Return (i Come To You Grown Weary Of Much Laughter)
I come to you grown weary of much laughter, From jangling mirth that once seemed over-sweet, From all the mocking ghosts that follow after A man's returning feet; Give me no word of welcome or of greeting Only in silence let me enter in, Only in silence when our eyes are meeting, Absolve me of my sin. I come to you grown weary of much living,