Bright Harvest by Grace Noll Crowell - HTML preview

An Old-Fashioned Parlor

A

WHATNOT and a sofa,

A carpet, wall to wall,

Betidied chairs placed primly

In case the neighbors call.

A wreath of waxen flowers,

And under glass, a rope

Of braided hair, and nearby

A waiting stereoscope.

A center table and a lamp,

The Bible in its place,

A red plush album opening up

To many a loved one’s face.

A quaint old room, yet lovely

In its peculiar way—

I think a bit more friendly

Than the parlors of today:

A room to call a wanderer,

Wherever he may roam,

Back through the deep nostalgia

That all hearts feel for home.

˙39˙