Time knows no beginning or end
Old Buildings wave and wend,
And the words live on in the wind...

Old Houses Speak
With words that time forgot
They groan and creak,
And settle and weep
For long-lost children
That played in their yards.

Old Barns Speak
Of braying donkey and milking cow;
Hens and ducklings
screeching and scratching
In the hay-laden, sweet-funk air.

Old Buildings Speak
Of their store-house of olden wares.
Tobacco drying,
Machines turning,
Lumber curing,
Fabric spinning,
Scissors trimming,
Men's minds thinking there.

Old Sea Cottages Speak,
Of the briny wood and barnacle feet,
Of foghorn's belch and mermaid's greet,
And waves ever slapping refrain.