Homestead

Homestead

"The house still stood upon the lonely hill
as I remembered it from long ago.
But now like some forlorn, unwanted waif,
it drooped dejected, and irresolute,
before the buffeting of prairie winds.
The hollow windows stared like sightless eyes
across the years of pestilence and drought...
The house is dark, and faceless shadows sway
in rooms where only memories remain.
No welcome voice cries from the open door,
but from the haunting years of yesterday
a plaintive piper's melancholy call;
nostalgic notes of unalloyed lament
that linger in the lonely heart of man
like fragrance of a half-remembered spring."

Douglas Banham