the memory becomes
a kaleidoscope,
and every minute
the scene changes.
You give
to the kaleidoscope of memory
a turn
and there they are,
natural as life,
around the country hearth
on a cold winter night.
I see that old Thanksgiving dinner.
Father at one end,
mother at the other end,
the children between . . .
Of the ten at that table,
all are gone save two --
some in village churchyard,
some in city cemetery --
but we shall sit with them yet
at a brighter banquet.
Rev. T. De Witt Talmage. (1832-1902)
Rockdale Reporter. (Rockdale, Tex.), Vol. 10, No. 42, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 19, 1903 Page: 8 of 10
