Leaving Sunday morning
On a ten-day trip.
Ten hectic days of
Living from a grip.

For fun and recreation
I’m sure that we won’t lack.
Looking forward to the nicest
Rest–when I get back!

July 11, 1937



I sat on my porch this evening,
Weary and worn and old,
Tired of endless bright sunlight,
Longing for winter’s deep cold.

Oh, indolent summer evenings–
How welcome will be autumn’s zest,
With her golden days blue-shadowed
And her cool nights filled with rest!

August 22, 1937

Old House

Poor old deserted house–
You look so tired, standing there.
You’ve seen too much of life,
Too much of human sorrow.
Each of your rooms holds
Secrets innumerable
Of joys and heartaches,
Elation and despair.
Every tear and every smile
Has left a wrinkle in your gray face,
But you have grown old
In a gracious, graceful way.
Your dignity far surpasses
That of many houses
Built more recently, and I pray
That, growing old, I may attain
Some of the charm and grace
That many years have earned for you.

August 13, 1939