Annie Louisa Walker(23 June 1836 - 7 July 1907 / Staffordshire, England)
- by Annie Louisa Walker54
You cannot rob us of the rights we cherish, Nor turn our thoughts away From the bright picture of a "Woman's Mission" Our hearts portray.
We claim to dwell, in quiet and seclusion, Beneath the household roof,-- From the great world's harsh strife, and jarring voices, To stand aloof;--
Not in a dreamy and inane abstraction To sleep our life away, But, gathering up the brightness of home sunshine, To deck our way.
As humble plants by country hedgerows growing, That treasure up the rain, And yield in odours, ere the day's declining, The gift again;
So let us, unobtrusive and unnoticed, But happy none the less, Be privileged to fill the air around us With happiness;
To live, unknown beyond the cherished circle, Which we can bless and aid; To die, and not a heart that does not love us Know where we're laid.
The Old Men Used to Sing
- by Annie Louisa Walker45
The old men used to sing And lifted a brother Carefully Out the door I used to think they Were born Knowing how to Gently swing A casket They shuffled softly Eyes dry More awkward With the flowers Than with the widow After they'd put the Body in And stood around waiting In their Brown suits.
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