"You'll only be a stranger once!"® - Roann, Indiana

The Little Town (Roann)

          I will choose the little town
                        For that's where the trees grow wise,
                   Where my garden has plenty of open space.
                        For flowers to open their eyes

 I will choose the little town
       With grasses beneath my feet.
   Where the laughter and sqeals of children at play
        Are noisy as they are sweet. 
 I will love the little town
         Near a river, where nearby
  Are willow trees and sycamores
         Beneath a starlit sky
 Here one can pause and send her thoughts
               As far as her soul can go.
           Can listen in a quiet night
               And hear all nature grow.

 Here one can work and love and play
         With folks whose roots go down
    Deep in the sod. In the hand of God
         Nestles this little town.
 A rapurous choir of singing birds
       Awakens me at dawn.
   Thanksgiving turns my heart and face
 	   To the East, with her glory on.
 And day fills up like a waiting cup
 		With friendliness, work and bliss
	No neighborhood on a city street
			Offers anything like this

 So cows, and sows and farmer's plows
		 I daily hear them mentioned,
	And sheep. I sleep when shadows creep
		Or chat with widows pensioned.
 And I will die beneth this sky
		And sleep beneath this sod
    Near the little town that nourished me
        So close to the heart of God
 

Written by 
V. Friederika Van Buskirk 
Roann, Indiana