Saturday, June 22, 2013



Her heart is like her garden,
Old fashioned, quaint and sweet,
A wealth of beautiful blossoms,
And there a quiet retreat.

Sweet violets are in hiding,
We know as we pass by,
And lilies, pure as angel thoughts,
Are opening somewhere nigh.

Forget-me-nots there linger,
To full perfection brought,
And a bloom of purple pansies
In many a tender thought.

And in that quiet garden -
The garden of her heart -
Songbirds are always singing
Their songs of cheer apart.

And from it floats forever,
overcoming grief and strife,
Sweet as the breath of roses blown,
the fragrance of her life.

~ Alice E. Allen

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