Friday, April 11, 2008


Home
Anna Vallance

Home is where the heart is,
Be it rich or lowly place.
It's where we find a lighted lamp
And a cheerful loving face.

Home is a place where the heartstrings
Feel a tug that draws you back;
Where a wealth of precious memories
Recompense for worldly lack.

Home is where a mother's love
Surrounds with tender care;
Where tousled little childish heads
Bow down in sleepy prayer.

Home is where a father's strength
Surrounds protects his own ...
God grant we keep within our hearts
This citadel of home.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

A poem

In April
by James Hearst


This I saw on an April day:
Warm rain spilt from a sun-lined cloud,
A sky-flung wave of gold at evening,
And a cock pheasant treading a dusty path
Shy and proud.


And this I found in an April field:
A new white calf in the sun at noon,
A flash of blue in a cool moss bank,
And tips of tulips promising flowers
To a blue-winged loon.


And this I tried to understand
As I scrubbed the rust from my brightening plow:
The movement of seed in furrowed earth,
And a blackbird whistling sweet and clear
From a green-sprayed bough.

About Me

My photo
I'm an 18 year old stay-at-home daughter in the beautiful state of North Carolina. I'm learning to be a godly homemaker.