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Wednesday, September 29, 2010

As I grow older . . .




Quoting H.I. Brackett . . . I have observed that old people live much in the past. As I grow older I find myself turning oftener to the days in the old home. I hear the patter and the prattle of childish feet and voice; light step of youth and maid; sober footfall and serious word of man and matron; the slowing step and failing voice of age. All, all are gone! I alone am left of . . .


The dear home faces whereupon

The fitful firelight paled and shown.

Hence forward, listen as I will

The voices of that hearth are still.

How strange it seems with so much gone

Of life and love to still live on.


Mrs. Silence J. Soule.