Thursday, March 11, 2010


Afterwhile we have in view
The old home to journey to;
Where the mother is, and where
Her sweet welcome waits us there,
How we'll click the latch that locks
In the pinks and hollyhocks,
And leap up the path once more
Where she waits us at the door;
How we'll greet the dear old smile
And the warm tears, afterwhile.

-James Whitcomb Riley

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