Beside ripe fields of yellow grain,
We traced this road at early dawn;
And this one in a mid-day rain,
Thin, crystal-blue.  A doe and fawn

Stepped out of covert, – see, just here
And watched our car with startled stares;
And there, the moon rose white and clear;
And here, I think, we bought the pears.

And that old house we loved so well
Stood at the crossroads on this ridge;
From here we heard a far church bell,
And there we crossed a covered bridge.

Fold up the map; for other days
And other roads await, we know.
And we shall find enchanted ways
And bright ascending paths to do.

Published    Place and date unknown

There are three windows in my room,
With small old panes; and each looks out
Upon green interlacing boughs
And grassy gardens, all about.

It was not long ago I gazed
Through dingy glass on walls of brick,
Where all the lifted eye could find
Was smoky turrets, crowded thick.

And now, along the village street,
I see old houses, shining white;
Prim flowered paths lead up to doors
Where polished knockers catch the light.

Beyond, salt water ebbs and flows;
Its restless blue between the trees
Shows sparkling; and, a gull-like gleam,
A sail moves in from farther seas.

Three windows in my room have I
(Such gifts can goodness send to bless),
Where I may lean and show my soul
Three open ways to loveliness.

Published.  Place unknown.

— Click on the links under “Poems” for more of Margaret Ashmun’s verses.


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