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The Old Folks
The old folks—my, a race, A people all their own, I used to dread the day, I’d be so stooped and grown. I used to think—my sakes, To be so pale and slow,…
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The Hour Gone By
The hour is ne’er as sweet,As the hour a’ready gone by,When we’d sit on the creakin’ porch,And talk alone, just you and I. We said all the same sort of things, As we said…
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The Song of the Troubadour
How steep the red-stained cliffside, Oh, cursed is me! The French in me! ’Twould be better if I had died! And ne’er soiled the village place, Oh, Roussillon! Poor Roussillon! My sins art…
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If I Could Run Away
by Hannah Linder If I could run away, Beyond the day and night, To places undisturbed, By human sound or sight. Where time is but a clock, Who cannot move a hand, Where…
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“The Memory of Hougoumont”
“The Memory Of Hougoumont” by Hannah Linder Sunday June 18, 1815Belgium How green and rich the orchards,With a dazzling touch of dew,Yet before the first of canon blast,Undoubtably, she knew. She faced the…
Hannah Linder Books
