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FERNDALE Many years ago I published a book of poetry for a lovely lady whose hobby down through the years was writing poems reminiscent of places and events in her life. Coincidently, the title she selected for the little booklet was ‘‘Through The Years.’ Many of the poems had a religious content because she was truly faithful to her beliefs and her church. I’ve never been too interested in poetry, but I did enjoy reading her little dittys and I still have one of the booklets to this day. Anyway, what brings this subject up is the fact that I was intro duced to ‘‘Ferndale’’ just the other day. A friend of mine asked me if I had ever been down to the ‘Old Gleim Place’’ just a couple of miles from Arlington. I had to answer ‘‘No’’ because I really hadn’t heard of the place, or, if I had, I didn’t recall. This friend then proceeded to tell me about the fine, old home and of the many good times she and hundreds of others have had down through the years picnicing in the spacious yard or exploring the woods and stream nearby. It seems that even though the house has been closed for many years, the owner has kept the lawn mowed each summer and has looked the other way when local families have ‘‘trespassed’’ on her property to enjoy the park-like atmosphere of the place. On my way back to town I knew I had read about a place like that somewhere, sometime. . .and then I thought about the little book of poetry I still had tucked away somewhere in my treasures. When I got home and finally located ‘‘Through The Years’’ I complemented myself on my memory because, sure enough, the third poem in the book was titled ‘‘Landmark’’ and even though Ferndale is still stand ing, it seems to git the portent of this lovely poem, I will pass it along to you here, hoping I will have the unsolicited permission of the author if by some cance she finds out I printed it here. After my informant had given me directions I couldn’t wait to drive down and look the spot over, and I’m glad I did. The setting is fabulous and the old house still stands majestic in its wooded domain. Now, I can’t wait for the leaves to come out and the lawn to take on its summer coat of green so I can really enjoy the beauty of the place. Even the old bridge you have to cross to get to the gate has a rustic beauty that is hard to write about. . .you have to see it, ‘*LANDMARK’? For many, many years it stood In the center of the vale. In a quiet country settlement, Known by the name of ‘Dale,’ It was truly a descendant, of the first home built of sod, Built by pioneer people, Who put their trust in God. It has been a noted landmark Showing progress true, Of the worthy old pioneer Who braved a country now. The old house could tell stories of things down through the years, Some of mirth and joy and gladness, Some of sorrow, grief and tears. Its rooms rang out so merrily With much company so gay; And the walls resounded often With happy children at play, It had great pride and dignity, With wholesome living there; The home was bright and happy, With much music in the air, But death also came at times And took loved ones away. For life is never satisfied Unless sorrow has its day. Now, let us have no sorrow. That the old house is gone. Just have pride in what it was. And let its memory live on,
Newspaper Details
Arlington Progressive
Arlington, Iowa, US
Thu, Apr 18, 1968
Page 1
Full Page
Clipped by
Thomas R.
DC, USA 08 Jan 2026
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