Auld Lang Syne

Old Ford, NC

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Snow Hill, NC

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Home can never be expressed,
Till the soul has found its rest.
Home is transient here below,
And its term we cannot know:
It is like the sun’s last ray,
Dying with departing day.
Home is like the robin’s nest,
Now in downy feathers drest,
But tomorrow nowhere found,
In the air or on the ground.

JESSE H. BUTLER, “Home”

 

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One thought on “Auld Lang Syne

  1. Love the old home places. We pass many in Arkansas on the way to our river house. I watch through the years as we drive past, they fall apart board by board, shingle by shingle, brick by brick.

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