-----Original Message----- From: Judith Appleton - Email Address: judith.appleton@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx Sent On: 21/11/2009 18:51 Sent To:Undisclosed recipient Subject Fwd: Poem by M. E. Mason. The Old House. A little House, with sloping floors, and ceilings, dark with oaken beans, and wooden latches, to the doors, A little house all full of dreams. A twisting stairway, ages old, a chimney place, so deep and wide, that when the winter wind blows cold, you may creep close, and sit inside. A little house, right on the Street, the cobbled Street, grown o'er with grass, where you may hear the ring of feet, and singing voice of Children pass. And sometimes for a little space, a storied heart, lays bare, and doth unveil, a secret place, of memory, intimate and rare. When I, a little wearied grown, to my last sleep, must go some day, in dreams my spirit will return, it could not bear, to be, away.