Wednesday, April 21, 2010


I love poetry.
There is an old book of poems that I have had for many years.
Sometimes I put it away for long periods of time, and then one day I will pick it up again and sit and read.
Most of the poems are the old fashioned kind-about God, Love, Mother and Home.
Some will make you cry, But in the uncaring times in which we are living, Often I think a tear is a good thing.

This one was written by
Mrs Razel Henn

 Are All The Children In

I think oft times when the night draws nigh,
Of an old house on the hill,
Of a yard all wide and blossom starred
Where the children played at will.
And when the night at last came down,
Hushing the merry din,
Mother would look all around and ask,
Are all the children in?

 'Tis many and many a year since then,
And the old house on the hill
No longer echoes to childish feet,
And the yard is still, so still.
But I see it all as the shadows creep,
And though many the years have been
Since then, I can still hear Mother ask,
"Are all the children in?"

 I wonder if, when the shadows fall,
On the last short earthly day;
When we say goodbye to the world outside
All tired with our childish play;
When we meet The Lover of boys and girls,
Who died to save them from sin,
Will we hear Him ask as my mother did,
"Are all the children in?"

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