I walked alone
on Quality Hill
In nineteen
forty-five
Yet I was not
alone for eight-
Teen ninety came
alive.
The welcome door
of each old
house
Invited to
spacious rooms
Hoop-skirted
ladies and
side-burned
gents
From carriages
handled by
grooms.
A swish of
silken skirts
swept by me
Or was it only a
breeze?
Yet I am sure I
heard the talk
And laughter of
such as these.
Yes, the blades
are gone and the
ladies, too,
That played on
Quality Hill,
But as long as
one old brick
house stands,
Their spirits
will never be
still.
--Ada Newton
Campbell. |
