The Retreat

I carry in my mind a picture clear —
A low and rambling house; its people dear.
It nestles by a gently rolling hill,
And though I’m far away I hear the trill
Of red birds; hear a purling brooklet sing
Along the broad lawn’s edge — its source a spring.
I see the willow with its outflung arm
Stand sentry-like as though to guard from harm
Here water cress grows satin green, and moss
All those who would this crystal-clear stream cross.
Like velvet sheathes its banks, and reaches where
The Rose of Sharon marches tall and fair,
Along the sloping pathway to the door.
And inside there is peace, a goodly store.
All mine from which to draw when nerves and mind
Are taut and weary from the daily grind.
Ah! soon, I’ll leave the city and its noise
To steep my heart in peace, regain my poise
Among these friends who carry faith’s torch high.
Upon whose simple home God’s blessings lie.