While reading an old issue of Southern Lady, I stumbled upon a poet by the name of Violet Witherspoon. I found her story interesting and her poetry lyrical...
No debt is owed a smile, however warm, That brightened hearthstone cold on gray-branched day, Nor dearness of an eye that shone with special charm And lighted lowest clouds along their way. For spoken kindess let no payment pass, Though in truth such never fell unheard, Nor yet for look, nor dress, nor studied stance Seen loudly clothed in pale and dying word. Only a sightless scene deserves the fee: 'Twas but a hand laid lightly o'er my own, A momentary mime, mute reverie, For hands sing songs with words to lips unknown. Unseen by thee who played the mummer's part, In recompense for hand, I gave my heart.
January 3, 1905
A small entertainment for my Monday! I had a fabulous and blessed Birthday! My day started with pink pancakes... need I say more! My hot hubbie and I got to actually go on a real date! Thank you all for the sweet wishes (and for even kind of believing I'm close to 26 years old, gigles!! Big hugs, Olivia