When
When the roll is called up yonder,
(If any roll there be) —
And the saints have ceased to ponder,
(If any saints there be) —
I'll be there to share the story
Of that everlasting glory,
(I'll be there, maybe).
Anna M. Johnson
Most common moods
Poems
Birches
I love the friendly Birch,
When gracefully and tall I see it rise
Through greening pines,
Waving white arms to summer skies,
Or cousining in clumps in bent outlines,
It whispers confidences — sweetest Birch.
I love the dainty Birch,
Tho’ wonderfully clad in sheerest white,
Akin to nudity, no fears alarm,
When Winter starts its blights,
Its purity is changeless, and it bears
No season’s malice — peerless Birch!
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