(The following is a poem by Alan N. Bodle, and is reprinted from “Reflections II”, a collection of local stories available at the Grove City Welcome Center and Museum.)


Alone I stand beneath the willows
When the weary is done,
And the clouds in golden billows
Roll above the sinking sun.

Wind waved branches rustling o’er me,
Deepening shades of night unfold,
And the river spread before me
Trembling sheets of misty gold.

Breezes fold their fragrant pinions
Drifting through the waning day,
From the woodland’s dim dominions
Where the drowsy roses sway.

Now the sunset’s fires grow dimmer,
Softening over hills and dells;
And the fireflies flash and glimmer,
Darting through the hazel dells.

Mystic luster, fragrant shadows,
Sacred silence hovering o’er
Leafing vales and flowery meadows
Eventime on Darby’s shore.