March 28, 1869 - January 7, 1965

I thank my Father above
That from earth to heaven's dome
Everything both great and small
Can be lifted by a poem.
Poems by Ada Beck    
  I love to write poetry,
Some say -"That's the limit" -
But I love it, somehow
To me there's music in it.

They may call me a dreamer,
And say it's a poor man's art,
But somehow a lovely poem
Always attunes my heart
To the greatness of my Father-
And points a picture for me
Full of His loving kindness,
And makes me His beauty see.

The difference between prose and poetry
Is as the sad to the gay,
Or as a burst of glory
At the end of a rainy day.
It somehow clears the cobwebs
Of doubt and gloom from my brain
And brings peace and comfort,
Like Mother's sweet refrain.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
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