Near five score
Years she dwelt here
In peace and war and
Labours dear from
Room to room to
Room and gardens
About the walls and
Girdling trees to
Which she was so
Tightly tied that
She was free to
Be what she was
Birthed to be and
So she was the
Mother given me, a
Sister to the trees
Keeper of the many
Gardens green and
Splashed with every
Rainbow's hues, the
Very riot of life to
Which she was both
Nursemaid and
Wife, coach, counsel
Merry saviour of
Empty days, of
Lonely nights filled
A-brim with the
Hollow howl of
A dreaded 'morrow
Come at last. So
Still these days that
Take years to pass
Their passage
Wed to the leaden
Baggage that is
The order of today
When once a home
Lies in ruins now
Named a house
Its living heart
Having heard the
Horn of Time, the
Final call and
Signal to
Depart.…
