An Old-Fashioned Parlor
A
WHATNOT and a sofa,
A carpet, wall to wall,
Betidied chairs placed primly
In case the neighbors call.
A wreath of waxen flowers,
And under glass, a rope
Of braided hair, and nearby
A waiting stereoscope.
A center table and a lamp,
The Bible in its place,
A red plush album opening up
To many a loved one’s face.
A quaint old room, yet lovely
In its peculiar way—
I think a bit more friendly
Than the parlors of today:
A room to call a wanderer,
Wherever he may roam,
Back through the deep nostalgia
That all hearts feel for home.
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