Amityville

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Title:     Amityville
Author: Jared Barhite [More Titles by Barhite]

The writer applying for a room at Newpoint Inn, Amityville, Long Island, was informed that the house was full. Some friends, stopping near, kindly invited him to go with them. He accepted. After his departure he sent the following:

"I was a stranger and ye took me in,
Hungry and ye fed me,"
No place for me at Newpoint Inn,
So home you kindly led me.

Some say the world is cold and sour,
Devoid of fellow-feeling,
But day by day and hour by hour,
To me comes a revealing

That warm hearts beat where'er we go,
Kind hands are gladly serving
The kindred hearts which ever show
They truly are deserving.

The world, indeed, may frigid be
When icebergs float around it,
But warm, true hearts of constancy,
Have uniformly found it

To be a place where fragrant flowers
Deprive the thorns of stings,
Where sunny souls spend happy hours,
And Nature laughs and sings.

We make our paths, we dwell the lives
Selected by ourselves;
We shape the destiny that gives
Our fate to gods or elves.

Then let us know this truth full well
Wherever we may be,
We have a power to help us dwell
In the ville of amity.

* * * * *

Robin is a singer; sweet and pure and clear
Are the notes he warbles from his covert near;
Softly, oh! how softly, at the sunset's glow
Does he chant his vespers, plaintive, sweet, and low.

Robin is an artist; he beautifies the stream,
The vale, the hill, the meadow, until they truly seem
To glow, because his presence gives to each a tongue
To echo back the music his minstrel throat has sung.

[The end]
Jared Barhite's poem: Amityville

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