The Home Forum has no ''Fifty Years Ago'' column, but we cannot resist conveying a word of thanks for all the poetry of Norma Farber by republishing her first contribution to our page. It appeared Sept. 20, 1933. Look inland, stranger, where the firs grow tall: Here bends no greeting to the upward glance; Level of look, we watch the swing and fall Of dune-waves, shifting in an ancient dance. Turn back, stranger, to hew dense fragrant logs In the cool darkness of green-shaded land; Only the dwarfed and acid cranberry bogs Are oases to break this wind-piled sand. Turn inland, plant your trees to wound the sky; Dim the fine beckoning lines where blue meets earth; Plant shadow for the dark-adapted eye Narrowing on our sun-anointed hearth. Across this yellow sea the winds allow No spade to furrow where they alone may plough.