To My Husband

At times you are weary
And heartsick all through
From failures and worries
That life has dealt you.

Just then, may I be
Understanding and strong,
To encourage and comfort,
To teach you a song.

So you are to me
When I am perplexed
And don’t seem to care
What Life hands me next.

Your arms are my home;
Your heart is my shrine.
Let me stay there forever,
Oh, husband of mine.

June 18, 1939


My Haven

There’s a beautiful room in my head
Where I keep all the nice things you say,
Each wrapped in the tissue of memory
And put securely away.

Then when you speak words in anger,
I close and lock the small door,
And the words leave no more impression
Than one wave on a rocky shore.

January 27, 1940

Housewife’s Lament

Dishes to wash, floors to sweep,
When I would so much rather keep
A rendezvous with an ivy vine
Out in the golden spring sunshine.

Mocking bird on lofty bough
Calls to me–just hear him now!
But here am I, still dusting chairs
And sweeping cobwebs from the stairs.

Oh, to be as free and gay–
‘Specially on an April day–
As a rippling mountain rill
Or the wildflowers on the hill!

May 7, 1939


The days are clear; the sky is blue,
And spring is in the April air,
Yet such sadness as I never knew
Fills all my thoughts with deep despair.

As daylight long and longer grows,
So strong and stronger grows my pain,
And sluggishly life’s current flows
Till I’ll be coming home again.

April 28, 1940

Cure for Insomnia

Some night perhaps you’ll find
Your eyes won’t close in sleep.
Here is one thing you can do
Instead of counting sheep:

Just make a mental list
Of things you like the best–
A kitten’s fur, Brahm’s “Lullaby”,
Spring wind on some hill’s crest;

Yellow butter, freshly churned,
Love story on a rainy day,
Red roses, and a robin’s song,
Remembered scent of clover hay.

Your little list will grow and grow–
And here I give you warning–
Before you know you’ve slept at all,
You’ll wake to find it morning.

February 18, 1940


This tip is shared at Works-for-Me Wednesday.


Have you sat in a car on a Saturday night
Parked on some main street
And watched the ceaseless, endless procession
Of the many kinds of feet?

Light feet, gay feet, and some that are sad,
Old feet that slowly plod,
Young feet, bare feet, feet that have been far,
And feet expensively shod.

Handsome feet, ugly feet, eager, and tired,
Feet that are down at the heels;
Watch all the feet, and somehow you can tell
What each owner of them feels.

May 30, 1937