Esther's Non Spiritual Poems Part B

Page 1b of 256 All Rights Reserved. Favorite Poems Part 2

Part 2 Non-Religious Poems

and Sayings * * * * * * * * * * * *

All Because You Kissed Me Goodnight! (1) My baby kissed me goodnight, and I am glad to relate

That by the time I got home I was feeling great I climbed up the door and opened the stairs

I said my pajamas and put on my prayers I turned off the bed and put on my prayers,

All because you kissed me [kiss], Goodnight.

(2) Next morning, I woke up and scrambled my shoes, I shined up an egg, then I toasted the news,

I buttered my tie and had another bite, All because you kissed me [kiss], Goodnight.

(3) By evening I felt normal, so we went out again,

You said, “Goodnight” and kissed me I hurried home and then

I climbed up the door and opened the stairs I said my pajamas and put on my prayers

I turned off the bed and crawled into the light And all because you kissed me [kiss] Goodnight.

(4) I powdered my hair and pinned up my nose I hung up the bath and I turned on my clothes

I put out the clock and wound the cat up tight And all because you kissed me [kiss] Goodnight.

(5) I ran up the shade and pulled down the stair

I curled up the rug and I vacuumed my hair I just couldn’t tell my left foot from my right

And all because you kissed me [kiss] Goodnight.

Written by: Eddie Pola; George Wyle; MCA Music, Publisher, Universal Studios, Performed by: Tony Martin

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Practical Advice

“Believe In Love At First Sight.” –H. Jackson Brown, Jr. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Poems about Aging, Death & Dying

* * * * * * * * * * * * Life’s A Gift – Grace E. Easley

Life is a wonderful gift, my friend, Whatever the age we’re living in.

Listen not to those who say “Oh for the dreams of yesterday”.

Never since the world began, Did time stand still for any man.

The greatest minds have failed to reach The wisdom that the seasons teach.

There is a harmony in things, That only growing older brings.

Happiness is learning how To value what is here and now. No winter bird, no golden leaf,

Had not the summer been so brief. * * * * * * * * * * * *

We’re All growing Older “By medicine life may be prolonged, but death

will seize the doctor too.” - William Shakespeare * * * * * * * * * * *

Grow Old Along With Me - Robert Browning

Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, For which the first was made. Our times are in his hand, who saith

“A whole I planned - youth shows but half! Trust God: See all nor be afraid!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * Three Days

Yesterday... Like vintage spent, is past recall, Tomorrow... It never promised earthly man, nor does it often fit a plan;

Today... Is gold that covers hill and dell, and rich are they who use it well. - Pearl Phillips

* * * * * * * * * * * * Atonement

- Margaret E. Bruner How often we neglect a friend when living – But should death appear, the penitent heart

Is quick to send a wreath to lay upon his bier. * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Touching Shoulders - Author Unknown

There's a comforting thought at

the close of the day When I'm weary and lonely and sad;

That sort of grips hold of this poor old heart And bids it be merry and glad.

It gets in my being, and drives out the blues

And finally thrills through and through, It's just a sweet memory, that chants this refrain,

'I'm glad I touched shoulders with you.'

Did you know you were brave? Did you know you were strong?

Did you know there was one leaning hard? Did you know that I waited, and listened and prayed?

And was cheered by your simplest word.

Did you know that I longed For the smile on your face?

For the sound of your voice ringing true, Did you know I grew stronger and better because

'I had merely touched shoulders with you '. I'm glad that I live, that I battle and strive,

For a place that I know I must fill; I'm thankful for sorrows, I'll meet with a grin

What fortune may bring, good or ill;

I may not have wealth, I may not be great But I know I will always be true,

For I have in my life, that courage you gave, When once, 'I touched shoulders with you!’

Joseph Heber

Joseph Hancock, Jr.

Haisa Carol Hancock

Kaziah May Hancock

Edith Kaziah Hancock

Sarah Hancock

T. Esther Hancock


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * How To Know You’re Getting Older

Everything hurts and what doesn’t hurt, doesn’t work. The gleam in your eye is the sun hitting your bifocals. You feel like the night before but you haven’t been anywhere. Your little black book contains only names ending in

M.D. You get winded playing chess.

Your children begin to look middle aged. You reach the top of the ladder and

Find it leaning against the wrong wall. You join a health club but don’t go You begin to outlive enthusiasm.

You decide to procrastinate but then never get around to it.

Your still chasing woman but cannot remember why. Your mind makes contracts your body can’t meet.

A dripping faucet causes an uncontrollable bladder urge You know all the answers but no one asks the questions.

You look forward to a dull evening. Your favorite part of the paper Is “25 Years Ago Today”.

You turn out the light for economic rather than romantic reasons.

You sit in a rocking chair and cannot make it go. Your knees buckle but your belt won’t.

You regret all the mistakes of resisting temptation. Dialing long distance wears you out.

You’re startled the first time you are addressed as old timer.

You burn the midnight oil after 9PM, Your back goes out more than you do. A fortune teller offers to read your face.

Your pacemaker makes the garage door go up, When you see a pretty girl go by.

The little grey haired lady you helped Across the street was your wife.

You get exercise acting as pall bearer For your friends who exercised.

You have to much room in the house And not enough in the medicine cabinet

And you sink your teeth into a steak and they stay there.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * May you Live for 1000 Years

“May you live for 1,000 years and I be there to count them with you.” * * * * * * * * * * * *

A ninety-seven year old man when asked the secret of his youth replied, I make the most of life as it comes, and the least of life as it goes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * God’s Gifts

God’s gifts put man’s best dreams to shame. - Elizabeth Barrett Browning * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * This Two Shall Pass Away

- N.L. Frisby When sorrow comes into your life and threatens to

destroy the very thing you treasure most, Your happiness and joy and when that crushing power

threatens everything worth while and clouded of darkness gather and you find it hard to smile;

Then lift your head and let the world, hear every word you say with faith undaunted say to them: “this too

shall pass away.” When you are over-burdened with life’s toil and earthly care; when life becomes so dreary

it seems more then you can bear; When weariness o’er-comes you, and you yearn for peaceful

rest, and trials of the day leave you, discouraged and depressed; there is no song within your heart;

You feel you cannot pray; then turn your thoughts to gladness for “this too shall pass away.”

When you are over-burdened with life’s oil and earthy cure; When life becomes so dreary It seams more then you can bear; When weariness o’er-comes you, and you yearn for

peaceful rest, and trials of the day leave you discouraged and depressed; There is no won within you heart; You feel you

cannot pray; Then turn you thoughts to gladness for “this too shall pass away.”

When fortune smiles upon you, and your cup of Joy is full;

When everything you want is yours, and life seems wonderful, When days and weeks go flitting by with happiness replete; And you desire nothing more to make your life complete;

Beware lest all these treasures of this earth lead you astray and hear again these truthful words; “this too shall pass away.”

And so remember well these words, whatever your lot may be, For life is ever changing – with such rapidity;

Our gladness turns to sadness, when the sunshine disappears, and sorrows change to happiness when God has calmed our fears, compared with all eternity, this life is but one day, we

cling to life, and yet we know “this too shall pass away.” * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Death Is Like Sleep - Longfellow

As a fond mother, when the day is o’er, leads by the hand her little child to bed, Half willing, half- reluctant to be led and leaves his broken playthings on the floor. Still gazing at them through the open door, Nor wholly reassured and

comforted by Promises of others in their stead, which, through more splendid, may not please him more; so nature deals with us, and takes away our play

things one by one; and by the hand leads us to rest so gently that we go – scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay; Being too full of sleep to understand how far

the Unknown transcends the what we known. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Practical Advice “Never laugh at anyone’s dreams.” –H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * Out At Old Aunt Mary’s

- James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916) Wasn't it pleasant, O brother mine,

In those old days of the lost sunshine Of youth--when the Saturday's chores were through,

And the "Sunday's wood" in the kitchen, too, And we went visiting, "me and you,"

Out to Old Aunt Mary's? It all comes back so clear to-day!

Though I am as bald as you are gray-- Out by the barn-lot, and down the lane,

We patter along in the dust again, As light as the tips of the drops of the rain,

Out to Old Aunt Mary's!

We cross the pasture, and through the wood Where the old gray snag of the poplar stood,

Where the hammering "red-heads" hopped awry, And the buzzard "raised" in the "clearing" sky

And lolled and circled, as we went by Out to Old Aunt Mary's.

And then in the dust of the road again; And the teams we met, and the countrymen; And the long highway, with sunshine spread

As thick as butter on country bread, Our cares behind, and our hearts ahead

Out to Old Aunt Mary's.

Why, I see her now in the open door, Where the little gourds grew

up the sides and o'er The clapboard roof!--And her face--ah, me!

Wasn't it good for a boy to see-- And wasn't it good for a boy to be

Out to Old Aunt Mary's? And O my brother, so far away,

This is to tell you she waits to-day To welcome us:--Aunt Mary fell

Asleep this morning, whispering, "Tell The boys to come!" And all is well

Out to Old Aunt Mary's. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

James Whitcomb Riley (1849-1916) was an American writer and poet who also went by the pseudonyms Jay Whit, Benjamin F. Johnson and Uncle Sidney. During his lifetime he was title the Hoosier Poet, National Poet, and Children’s Poet. He began his career in 1875 writing verses for the Indianapolis Journal. He wrote approximately 1000 poems, most of which are humorous or sentimental. He rose to prominence during the 1880’s. He never married or had children, struggled with alcohol addiction and was involved in a scandal in 1888 when he was too drunk to perform. He became a best-selling author beginning in 1890’s. He had a stroke in 1910 and was paralyzed on the right arm, after which he only read at civic events. He died in 1916, having 35,000 who attended his funeral, and was buried in the Crown Hill Cemetery in Indianapolis. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * How Did You Die?

-Edmund Vance Cooke (1866-1932)

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way With a resolute heart and cheerful?

Or hide your face from the light of day With a craven soul and fearful?

Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce, Or a trouble is what you make it,

And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts, But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?

Come up with a smiling face. It's nothing against you to fall down flat,

But to lie there -- that's disgrace. The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;

Be proud of your blackened eye! It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts,

It's how did you fight -- and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then? If you battled the best you could,

If you played your part in the world of men, Why, the Critic will call it good.

Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce, And whether he's slow or spry,

It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts, But only how did you die? * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Edmund Vance Cooke is possibly one of the most underrated poets of all time. Born in 1866 in Port Denver, Ontario, Canada, he first worked at a sewing machine factory for 14 years (ages 14 to 28), then became a self-employed poet, writer, and public speaker. His first book of poems, A Patch of Pansies, came out the next year and four years later he married Lilith Castleberry, and they had five children. He published 16 books of poetry and numerous children’s book, but is best known for this poem. In 1920, WWJ Cooke was offered a chance to broadcast his poems live over the radio, to thousands of listeners, and with this he paved the way for future poet Edgar Guest, who was responsible for producing nationwide poetry hours nationwide in the 1930’s. It would be his last contribution to the world. He died in Cleveland, Ohio in 1932.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * For One Lately Bereft

- Margaret E. Bruner Though now you are bereft and ways seem black,

With emptiness and gloom on every hand; Someday Time's healing touch will lead you back,

And gradually your heart will understand That what you bore must come to one and all,

And Peace, the clean white flower born of pain, Will slowly, surely, rise from sorrow's pall,

And happiness will come to you again. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I Shall Not Pass This Way Again

- Eva Rose York I shall not pass this way again---

although it bordered be with flowers, Although I rest in fragrant bowers, and hear the singing

Of song-birds winging to highest heaven their gladsome flight; Though moons are full and stars are bright,

and winds and waves are softly sighing, While leafy trees make low replying; though voices clear in joyous strain

Repeat a jubilant refrain; though rising suns their radiance throw On summer's green and winter's snow,

in such rare splendor that my heart Would ache from scenes like these to part;

though beauties heighten, And life-lights brighten, and joys proceed from every pain—

I shall not pass this way again.

Then let me pluck the flowers that blow, and let me listen as I go To music rare that fills the air;

and let hereafter songs and laughter Fill every pause along the way; and to my spirit let me say:

"O soul, be happy; soon 'tis trod, the path made thus for thee by God. Be happy, thou, and bless His name

by whom such marvelous beauty came." And let no chance by me be lost to kindness show at any cost.

I shall not pass this way again; then let me now relieve some pain, Remove some barrier from the road,

or brighten someone's heavy load; A helping hand to this one lend,

then turn some other to befriend. O God, forgive that I now live as if I might, sometime, return to bless the weary ones

that yearn for help and comfort every day, for there be such along the way.

O God, forgive that I have seen the beauty only, have not been awake to sorrow such as this;

that I have drunk the cup of bliss Remembering not that those there be who drink the dregs of misery.

I love the beauty of the scene, would roam again o'er fields so green;

But since I may not, let me spend my strength for others to the end,---

For those who tread on rock and stone, and bear their burdens all alone,

Who loiter not in leafy bowers, nor hear the birds nor pluck the flowers.

A larger kindness give to me, a deeper love and sympathy; Then, oh, one day may someone say-

remembering a lessened pain-- "Would she could pass this way again."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Eva Rose Cook (1858-1938) was born in Norwich, Ontario, Canada, attended college and married Dr. Winford York in 1879. She

studied music, and instructed choirs in Bellville before deciding in 1899 to devote her time looking after girls who had become prostitutes. She founded a home for women which she ran until 1914 after which she became a Baptist preacher full-time. She

funded the Eva Rose York Bible Training and Technical School for Women in the year 1922, part of a Canadian Baptist Mission, that was located in Tuni in Andhra Pradesh, India. Her talents as a poet caused her to be immortalized.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * In Grateful Remembrance of the Greatest of Fathers

- F. W. Brazier If with pleasure you are viewing,

Any work a man is doing, If you like him or you love him, tell him now.

Don’t withhold your approbation, Till the priest makes his oration,

And he lies with snowy lilies over his brow. For no matter how you shout it,

He won’t really care about it, He won’t know how many teardrops you have shed;

If you think some praise is due him, Now’s the time to slip it to him,

For he cannot read his tombstone when he’s dead. More than fame and more than money Is the comment kind and sunny

And the hearty warm approval of a friend For it gives to life a savior,

Makes him stronger, braver, And it gives him heart and courage to the end.

If he earns your praise, bestow it, If you like him, let him know it,

Let the words of true encouragement be said; Do not wait till life is over,

And he’s underneath the clover For he cannot read his tombstone when he’s dead.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * How Old Are You?

- H.S. Fritsch Age is a quality of mind.

If you have left your dreams behind, If hope is cold,

If you no longer look ahead If your ambitions’ fires are dead-

Then you are old. But if from life you take the best,

If in life you keep the jest, If love you hold;

No matter how the years go by, No matter how the birthdays fly –

You are not old. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Count Thankfully Do you count your blessings thankfully?

* * * * * * * * * * * Practical Advice

“Overpay good babysitters.” “Never refuse jury duty. It is your civic responsibility, and you’ll learn a lot.”

-H.Jackson Brown, Jr. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Prayer Max Ehrmann

Let me do my work each day; and if the darkened hours of despair overcome me,

may I not forget the strength that comforted me in the desolation of other times.

May I still remember the bright hours that found me walking over the silent hills of my childhood, or dreaming on the margin of a quiet river,

when a light glowed within me, and I promised my early God to have

courage amid the tempests of the changing years.

Spare me from bitterness and from the sharp passions of unguarded moments.

May I not forget that poverty and riches are of the spirit.

Though the world knows me not, may my thoughts and actions

be such as shall keep me friendly with myself. Lift up my eyes from the earth,

and let me not forget the uses of the stars. Forbid that I should judge others

lest I condemn myself.

Let me not follow the clamor of the world, but walk calmly in my path.

Give me a few friends who will love me for what I am; and keep ever burning before my vagrant steps

the kindly light of hope. And though age and infirmity overtake me,

and I come not within sight of the castle of my dreams, teach me still to be thankful for life,

and for time's olden memories that are good and sweet; and may the evening's twilight find me gentle still.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise

“May you live all the days of your life – Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise”.

* * * * * * * * As I Grow Old

-Unknown God keep my heart attuned to laughter

When youth is done; When all the days are gray days,

coming after the warmth, the sun. God keep me then from bitterness, from grieving, when life seems cold;

God keep me always loving and believing as I grow old.

* * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Shabby Old Dad

- Anne Campbell His collar is frayed, and his trouser unpressed,

He’s not a bit fussy the way he’s dressed, But he’s always ready to help out the rest,

Shabby Old Dad! His shirts have queer stripes,

And they’re old-fashioned quite, His ties are in strings, and they’re never tied right

His last year’s straw hat is a terrible sight- Shabby Old Dad!

His shoes need a shine, and his cuff links are thin, He does sometimes shave, but his top hair is thin;

You hardly would say he was neat as a pin – Shabby Old Dad!

Shabby Old Dad, with his heart full of woes,

And so much to think of besides buying clothes; With the kids needing food, and the money!

God knows! Shabby Old Dad! If there is a Heaven where peace can unfold – A life lived for other, a heart that’s pure gold, He’ll go there and live there in glory untold

Shabby Old Dad! * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Riddle Where’s an old women to go when the years Leave her alone with her sighs and her tears, Gray-haired and penniless, feeble and slow—

Where’s an old women to go? What’s an old women to do when her kin

Fail to remember that hands, worn and thin, Cared for them, slaved for them, all the years through -

What’s an old woman to do? What an old woman’s reward for a life

Given to others as Mother and Wife, Leaving her faltering, furrowed and scored— What’s an old woman’s reward? -H. E. H.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Keep the Dreams of Youth Alive

Keep true to the dreams of thy youth. - Johann Von Schiller * * * * * * * * * *

Youth fades “Youth fades; love droops; the lessons of fall;

a mother’s secret hop outlives them all.’ * * * * * * * * * * * * Can’t Buy Friendship

“Purchase not friends by gifts; when thou ceasest to give, such will cease to love.” –Thomas Fuller

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Old Mother

- Author Unknown Poor old lady. set her aside--

Her children are grown, and her work is done; True, in their service, her locks turned gray,

But shove her away, unsought, alone. Give her a home for decency's sake,

In some back room, far out of the way, Where her tremulous voice cannot be heard--

It might check your mirth when you would be gay. Strive to forget how she toiled for you

And cradled you oft on her loving breast-- Told you stories and joined your play, Many an hour when she needed rest.

No matter for that--huddle her off;

Your friends might wince at her witty jest; She is too old-fashioned, and speaks so plain--

Get her out of the way of the coming guest. Once you valued her cheerful voice,

Her hearty laugh and her merry songs; But to ears polite they are quite loud-- Her jokes too sharp, her tales too long.

So, poor old lady, hustle her off-- In her cheerless room let her sit alone;

She must not meet with your guests tonight, For her children are grown and her work is done.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * This, Too Shall Pass Away

- Author unknown When sorrows come into your life and threaten to destroy The very things you treasure most, your happiness and joy:

And when that crushing power threatens everything worthwhile, And clouds of darkness gather, and you find it hard to smile;

Then lift your head and let the world hear every word you say, With faith undaunted say to them: ‘This too, shall pass away’.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

While We May I am going your way, so let us go hand in hand. You help me and I’ll help you. We shall not be here, forever. One day the kind old nurse will come and rock us all to sleep. Let us help one another

while we may. – Author unknown. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Practical Advice –H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

“Spend your life lifting people up, not putting people down.” “Don’t judge people by their relatives”

“Don’t admire people for their wealth, but for the creative and generous ways they put it to use.”

“Pray, there is immeasurable power in it.” “Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt, but it’s the only

way to live life completely.” * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Because I Could Not Stop For Death

- Emily Dickinson (830-1886) Because I could not stop for Death;

He kindly stopped for me- - the carriage held but just

Ourselves and Immortality. we slowly drove— He knew no haste; and I had put away

My labor and my leisure too, for His civility-- We passed the school, where children strove

At recess--in the ring – We passed the fields of gazing grain—

We passed the Setting Sun-- Or rather--He passed Us--

The Dews drew quivering and chill- - For only Gossamer, my Gown--

My Tippet--only Tulle- - We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground-- The Roof was scarcely visible-- The Cornice--in the Ground-- Since then-

-'Tis Centuries--and yet feels shorter than the day I first surmised the Horses Heads were toward Eternity—

Emily Dickinson wrote over 1700 poems while alive.

She died of Bright’s Disease at age 56. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sorrow Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of the

countenance the heart is made better. - Anon * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When Hope is Gone When all our hopes are gone, ‘tis well our hands must keep toiling on for others' sake: for strength to bear is

found in duty done; and he is best indeed who learns to make the joy of others cure his own heartache.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Time

- William B. Terhune As you grow older, more than ever you need to spend part of each day alone in peace, quiet, and meditation; and in prayer that you

may be shown how to continue to live each day with courage, kindness, wisdom, laughter, interest and understanding. You

should take time to absorb and enjoy the lovely world in which you live and come to know its inhabitants with affectionate

amusement. You would do well to budge your time as follows: one-half in work, taking care of personal belongings, etc.; one-fourth in social pastimes with others, both young and old; and

one-forth as an interested, pleased observer of life. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Practical Advice “Get a care with a sun roof.” –H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

“Start every day with the most important thing you have to do. Save the less important tasks for later.” “Never drive while holding a cup of hot coffee between your knees.”

“Keep the porch light on until all the family is in for the night.” * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * ** *

The Minuet - Mary Mapes Dodge (1838-1905)

Grandma told me all about it, Told me so I couldn’t doubt it,

How she danced, My grandma danced long ago- How she held her pretty head.

How her dainty skirt she spread, How she slowly leaned and rose – long ago.

Grandma's hair was bright and sunny, Dimpled cheeks, too, oh, how funny!

Really quite a pretty girl - long ago. Bless her! why, she wears a cap, Grandma does, and takes a nap

Every single day: and yet Grandma danced the minuet - long ago.

"Modern ways are quite alarming,"

Grandma says, "but boys were charming" (Girls and boys she means, of course) "long

ago." Brave but modest, grandly shy; She would like to have us try

Just to feel like those who met In the graceful minuet - long ago.

(Published in Great Poems by American Women: An Anthology, by Susan L. Rattiner)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Let Not Your Heart Be Troubled

- Helen Steiner Rice Whenever I am troubled and lost in deep despair,

I bundle all my troubles up and go to God in prayer, I tell Him I am heartsick and lost and lonely too,

That I am deeply burdened and don't know what to do. But I know He stilled the tempest and calmed the angry sea,

And I humbly ask if in His love He'll do the same for me. Then I just keep quiet and think on thoughts of peace,

And as I abide in stillness my restless murmurings cease. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Memory Coins are Heart’s Treasury - Sara Teasdale

Into my heart's treasury I slipped a coin That Time cannot take nor a thief purloin—

O better than the minting Of a gold-crowned king Is the safe-kept memory

Of a lovely thing. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


“Keep a well-stocked first-aid kit in your car and at home.” “Accept a breath mint if someone offers you one.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * A Senior Citizen's Lament

- Anon Thought I'd let my doctor check me

'cause I didn't feel quite right All those aches and pains annoyed me

And I couldn't sleep at night He could find no real disorder

But he wouldn't let it rest What with Medicare and Blue Cross

It wouldn't hurt to do some tests To the hospital he sent me

Though I didn't feel that bad He arranged for them to give me

Every test that could be had I was flouroscoped and cystocoped

My aging frame displayed Stripped upon an ice-cold table While my gizzards were x-rayed

I was checked for worms and parasites For fungus and the crud

While they pierced me with long needles Taking samples of my blood

Doctors came to check me over Prodded and pushed and poked around

And to make sure I was living They wired me for sound

They finally concluded (Their results would fill a page)

What I have will someday kill me My affliction is old age. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Let Me Grow Lovely - Karle Wilson Baker (1878-1960)

Let me grow lovely, growing old— So many fine things do:

Laces, and ivory, and gold, And silks need not be new;

And there is healing in old trees, Old streets a glamour hold;

Why may not I, as well as these, Grow lovely, growing old? * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Long and Good Days “May your days be good and long upon the earth.”

- American Indian Saying * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Don’t Waste A Moment

“This day is all that is good and fair. It is too dear, with its hops and invitations, to waste a moment on the yesterdays.” -

Ralph Waldo Emerson * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * The Best Part

- Benjamin Jowett Though I am growing old, I maintain that

the best part is yet to come – the time when one may see things more dispassionately and know oneself and others more truly, and perhaps be able to do more, and in religion rest centered in a very few simple truths. I do not want to ignore the other side, that one will not be able to see so well, or walk

so far, or read so much. But there may be more peace within, more communion with God, more real light instead of distraction about many

things, better relations with others, fewer mistakes. * * * * * * * * * * *

Mistakes by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

God sent us here to make mistakes, To strive, to fail, to re-begin,

To taste the tempting fruit of sin, And find what bitter food it makes,

To miss the path, to go astray, To wander blindly in the night;

But, searching, praying for the light, Until at last we find the way.

And looking back along the past, We know we needed all the strain

Of fear and doubt and strife and pain To make us value peace, at last.

Who fails, finds later triumph sweet; Who stumbles once, walks then with care,

And knows the place to cry Beware To other unaccustomed feet.

Through strife the slumbering soul awakes, We learn on error's troubled route

The truths we could not prize without The sorrow of our sad mistakes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the School of Life - Henry Van Dyke

In the school of life many branches of knowledge are taught. But the only philosophy that amounts to anything after all,

is just the secret of making friends with our luck. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Glad To Be Living - Gamaliel Bradford

The south wind is driving his splendid cloud – horses through vast fields of blue. The bare woods are singing, the brooks in their courses are

bubbling and springing, and dancing and leaping, the violets peeping. I’m glad to be living; Aren’t you?

* * * * * * * * * * * Confession:

Although medicine may help me, Jesus is my healer. Therefore, I say with confidence, "God's Word works,

And it is working in me now!" Source: 365 Days of Healing - by Mark Brazee

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * My Grandfather’s Clock

My Grandfather's clock was too tall for the shelf,

So it stood ninety years on the floor. It was taller by far than the old man himself, And it weighed, not a penny weight more.

It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born; It was always his treasure and pride.

But it stopped short, never to go again, when the old man died.

(Chorus) Ninety years without slumbering (tick-tock, tick-tock),

His life seconds numbering (tick-tock, tick-tock) It stopped short never to go again, when the old man died.

In watching the pendulum swing to and fro,

Many hours he spent while a boy; And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know and to

share both his grief and his joy. For it struck twenty-four when he entered at the door

With a blooming and beautiful bride; But it stopped short, never to go again,

when the old man died.

My grandfather said that of those he could Hire not a servant so faithful he found;

For it wasted no time, and had but one desire – At the close of each week to be wound.

And it kept in its place – not a frown on its face And its hand never hung by its side.

But it stopped short, never to go again, when the old man died.

It rang an alarm in the dead of the night – an alarm that for years had been dumb;

And we knew that his spirit was pluming for flight – That his hour of departure had come.

Still the clock kept the time, With a soft and muffled chime As we silently stood by his side;

But it stopped short, never to go again When the old man died.

"Note: ‘My Grandfather's Clock’ is a song written in 1876 by Henry Clay Work, the author of "Marching Through

Georgia". It is a standard of British brass bands and colliery bands, and is also popular in bluegrass music. It is known to many people who grew up in the 1950’s & 1960’s.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Mourners Find Treasures

“Who never mourned hath never known, what treasures grief reveals, the sympathies that humanize, the tenderness that heals. the power to look within the veil, and learn the heavenly lore, the keyword to

life’s mysteries so dark to us before.” –unknown * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * *

Vision - Elizabeth N. Hauer

There have been times when I have looked at life from out the eyes of sorrow,

and have felt the utter loneliness of black night vigils, There have been times when I have wept hot tears and taste

of their salt and drunk of dregs of sadness to the end. There have been times – and then another’s heartache,

So deep and rending as to mock my own, Has cut flame-like across my blurring vision,

dwarfing my paltry tragedies to naught. * * * * * * * * *

Let Us Have Peace - Nancy Byrd Turner

The earth is weary of our foolish wars. Her hills and shores were shaped for lovely things,

Yet all our years are spent in bickerings Beneath the astonished stars.

April by April laden with beauty comes, Autumn by Autumn turns our toil to gain,

But hand at sword hilt, still we start and strain To catch the beat of drums.

Knowledge to knowledge adding, skill to skill, We strive for others' good as for our own—

And then, like cavemen snarling with a bone, We turn and rend and kill. . . .

With life so fair, and all too short a lease Upon our special star! Nay, love and trust,

Not blood and thunder shall redeem our dust. Let us have peace!

* * * * * * * * * * * * Endurance

- Elizabeth Akers Allen How much the heart may bear and yet not break!

How much the flesh may suffer and not die! I question much if any pain or ache of soul or body brings our

end more nigh; Death chooses his own time; ‘Till that is sworn, all evil may be borne....

Behold, we live through all things - famine, thirst, bereavement, pain, all grief and misery, all woe and sorrow, life

inflicts worst – On soul and body – But we cannot die, through we be sick, and tired, and faint, and

worn. Lo, all things can be born. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


“Be the first to fight for a just cause.” “Remember that no time is ever wasted that makes two people better friends.”

“Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it. “Surprise an old friend with a phone call.”

“When you have the choice of two exciting things, choose the one you haven’t tried.” * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Solitude

- Ella Wheeler Wilcox Laugh, and the world laughs with you;

Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,

But has trouble enough of its own. Sing, and the hills will answer;

Sigh, it is lost on the air - The echoes bound to a joyful sound,

But shrink from voicing care. Rejoice, and men will seek you;

Grieve, and they turn and go. They want full measure of all your pleasure,

But they do not need your woe. Be glad, and your friends are many;

Be sad, and you lose them all. There are none to decline your nectar or wine,

But alone you must drink life's gall. Feast, and your halls are crowded;

Fast, and the world goes by. Succeed and give, and it helps you live,

But no man can help you die. There is room in the halls of pleasure

For a long and lordly train, But one by one we must all file on Through the narrow aisles of pain.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919) was an American author and poet. Her best known work was Poems of Passion. Her most enduring work was ‘Solitude’ above. Her autobiography The Worlds and I, was published in 1918 a year before she passed away. Born in 1850 on a farm in Johnstown Wisconsin, the youngest of four children, she began writing poetry at a very young age, and was well-known as a poet before graduating from high school. Her most famous poem ‘Solitude’ was published in the Feb. 25, 1883 issue of the The New York Sun. She got her inspiration from a young woman who was very depressed as they sat near each other during a festival. As she looked at her own radiant face in the mirror and thought about the young woman, she wrote the opening lines ‘Laugh and the world laughs with you, Weep and you weep alone’. At age 23 she married Robert Wilcox who died in 1916 after about 30 years of

marriage. She was overcome with grief, and waited for a sign from her departed husband. She sought help from a Pastor who assured her that as soon as the turbulence of sorrow was quieted she would feel him. She became very interested in things of the occult, and developed a method of teaching spiritual positivism which were later popular in the New Thought Movement, her booklet What I Know About New Thought was distributed widely by 1915 by the Rosicrucian’s. It was a blend of New Thought, Spiritualism and Theosophical belief in reincarnation. She died of cancer in October 30, 1919. She wrote many popular poems, ‘The Man Worth While’, ‘Secret Thoughts’, ‘Growing Old’, ‘The Winds of Fate’, ‘Voice of the Voiceless’, etc. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Farewell - Charles Kingsely

My fairest child, I have no song to sing thee; No lark could pipe in skies so dull and gray;

Yet, if thou wilt, one lesson I will give thee for everyday. Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; do noble things, not dream them, all day long; And so make life, death, and that vast forever, one grand sweet song.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * ** * * * * Talk Happiness

- Ella Wheeler Wilcox The world is sad enough without your woes.

No path is wholly rough; look for the places that are smooth and clear, and speak of

those, to rest the weary ear of earth, so hurt by one continuous strain of

human discontent and grief and pain. Talk faith. The world is better off without your uttered ignorance and morbid doubt.

If you have faith in God, or man, or self, say so. If not, push back upon the shelf of silence

all your thoughts, till faith shall come. No one will grieve because your lips are dumb. Talk health. The dreary, never-changing tale of

mortal maladies is worn and stale. You cannot charm, or interest, or please by

harping on that minor chord, disease. Say you are well, or all is well with you,

And God shall hear your words and make them true. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Firm Belief - Unknown

The thing that numbs the heart is this: That man cannot devise

Some scheme of life to banish fear That lurks in most men’s eyes.

Fear of the lack of shelter, food, And fire for winter’s cold;

Fear of their children’s lacking these, This is a world so old.

This is my sure, my very firm belief, That life, to one born whole, is worth the living, well worth

the taking, and the giving. * * * * * * * * * * *

Afterglow - by Carol Mirkel

I’d like the memory of me to be a happy one. I’d like to leave an afterglow of smiles when day is done. I’d like to leave an echo whispering softly down the ways,

Of happy times and laughing times and bright and sunny days. I’d like the tears of those who grieve to dry before the sun, Of happy memories that I leave behind when day is done.


–H. Jackson Brown, Jr. “Leave a quarter where a child can find it.”

“Don’t ride in a care if the driver has been drinking.” “Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.”

“Don’t confuse comfort with happiness.” “Don’t confuse wealth with success.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Ol’ Clothes

- author unknown The Junk Man passed the house today And gave his call in his plaintive way, “Ol’ clothes! Ol’ clothes! Ol’ clothes!

Any ol’ clothes to throw away? Any ol’ dishes, Any ol’ plates, Any ol’ pants or hats or skates, Any ol’ bottles or ol’ tin cans,

Any ol’ dressess or any ol’ shoes, Any ol’ things that you can’t use?

Ol’ clothes! Ol’ clothes! Ol’ clothes!

I searched the house and made a heap Of things that I didn’t need to keep,

Out worn garments – and out read books; Clothes that had hung on rusty hooks

For the dust to grime and the moths to chew, And thus the old made way for the new. I thought, as the old man went his way,

How grand it would be if everyday The Junk Man passed the house to say:

Ol’ woes, ol’ woes, ol’ woes. Any ol’ woes to throw away?

Any old grudges ... any ol’ hates, Any ol’ miseries or sad ol’ dates, Any ol’ sorrows or any ol’ spites, Any ol’ fusses or feuds or fights,

Any ol’ sights or any ol’ tears. Any ol’ wishing for yesteryears, Any ol’ quarrels or any ol’ frets,

Any ol’ tears or ol’ regrets? Ol’ woes, ol’ woes, ol’ woes!

* * * * * * * * * * * Old Memories, Young Hopes

We must always have old memories and young hopes. – Arsene Houssaye

* * * * * * * * * * * Youth is a State of Mind

Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind. - Samuel Ullman

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Be Glad of Life

Be glad of life because it gives you the chance to love and to work and to play and to look up at the stars. - Henry Van Dyke

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Be Thankful

He who is unthankful will have all his blessings taken from him. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Roses & Mud Sorrow, like rain, makes roses and mud.

* * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Vy Not Keep A-Goin?

- David V. Bush from Concentration Made Effective And Easy.

If you’re stuck out in der mud, keep a-going! If your car stops mit a thud, keep a-going!

Vot’s der use to sit und vhine ven der fish is on your line,

Und der bright sun soon vill shine? Keep a-going! Though you feel like giving out, Keep a-going!

Do not falter, frown, or pout, Keep a-going! Vot’s der use of standing still Ven you must go up der hill?

Brace yourself and use your will- Keep a-going!

If your poat haf run aground, Keep a-going! You can’t vin py hanging round, Keep a-going!

If der paddle’s proke or split, Do not still or idle sit – Spend your time by fixing it!

Keep a-going! If your horse haf dropped down dead, Keep a-going!

Get anoder in its stead – Keep a-going! If your leg iss proke in two, Und you vunder vot to do,

Use der gut vun vot haf you! Keep a-going!

If your feet haf gone asleep, Keep a-going! If you’re in der svamp stuck deep,

Keep a-going! If your throat iss parched und dry,

Und you dink you want to die- Do no do it! Vunce more try! Keep a-going! If you see no rainbow now, Keep a-going!

‘Twill come back some tay, I vow! Keep a-going!

Dimes cannot alvays pe plue; Dey vill change some dime for you,

If you say: ‘I’m going to Keep a-going!” * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Gift of Days -Marion Shoeberlein

I wonder why we often spend Our gift of days complaining

When we should be thankful to our God, Like little things like rain and sun,

The birds and trees, the air we breathe The carpet of the grass he lays

If only we would realize How precious is God’s gifts of days.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Do It Now

-Author Unknown I've noticed that when a fellow dies, no matter what he's been-- A saintly chap or one whose life's been deeply steeped in sin- His friends forget the bitter words they spoke but yesterday.

And try to find a multitude of pretty things to say. I fancy when I go to rest some-one will bring to light

Some kindly thought or goodly deed long buried out of sight; But if it's all the same to you, just give to me instead

The bouquets while I'm living and the knocking when I'm dead.

Don't save your kisses to imprint upon my marble brow, While countless maledictions are hurled upon me now;

Say just one kindly word to me while I mourn here alone. And don't save all your eulogies to carve upon a stone.

What do I care if, when I'm dead, the Telegram or Gazette, Give me a write-up with a cut in mourning border set?

It will not flatter me a bit, no matter what is said. So kindly throw the bouquets now and knock me when I'm dead.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Door To Heaven

Weep a little, bow your head in sorrow for awhile to let him know you feel the ache his going left, then smile, and go about your duties; Remember and

mark it well, Death is the door to heaven where God and angels dwell. His passing is like the sunset fading in the sky, Yet in our hearts its radiance, we

know will never die; And just as surely as the sun is seen another day, so there will be tomorrow for those who pass away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Keep Going!

There is no skill in easy sailing when the skies are clear and blue,

There is no joy in merely doing things that anyone can do, But there is great satisfaction that is mighty sweet to take,

When you reach a destination that you said you could not make.

* * * * * * * * * Arise and Be Healed

“And when Jesus was come into Peter’s house, he saw his wife’s mother laid in bed,

and sick of a fever; and he touched her hand, and the fever left her; and she arose,

and ministered unto them.” (Matthew 8:14-15)

* * * * * * * * * * * * Practical Advice

–H. Jackson Brown, Jr. “Be the first to forgive.”

“Write a short note inside the front cover when giving a book as a gift.” “Never give a gift that’s not beautifully wrapped.”

Make the rules for your children clear, fair, and consistent.” “Don’t let a little dispute injure a great friendship.”

“When you need professional advice, get it from professionals, not from your friends.” * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * I Lift the Branch

-- Michael Dubina "As I grow older, day by day;

And heartaches add to wisdom's bay, The loves for which my youth once vied,

No longer light my fires, inside. I lift the branch that's hanging low –

I smell the rose but let it grow. Adventure lacks the lure it knew –

When foolish dreams and passions grew, And though it still demands my smile – (Where past and present meet awhile)

No more I haunt the turtle's rest – Or flush the robin from her nest. I journey, now, to meet an end –

Where deeds of past the future blend. And what I pass, in love's embrace,

I leave for better in its place - But God must often hear me say,

I wish I lived my life this way.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Needed - unknown

Heaven must have needed a pair of laughing eyes tat sparkled like stardust; their choice was very wise. They knew that this small spirit

would teach them how to smile, For never has another been so sweet, this little while. An understanding heart was found in this small one, His mission here completed he’s now a favored one. A favored child of heaven awaits you through the years, but now

claims exaltation; is it a time for tears? * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yesterday and Tomorrow “Yesterday is gone, tomorrow never comes – Today is all I’ve got.”

* * * * * * * * * * * As We Grow Older

- Rollin J. Wells A little more tired at close of day, a little less anxious to have our own way,

A little less ready to scold and blame, a little more care of a brother’s name. And so we are nearing the journey’s end, where time and eternity meet and blend.

And so we are faring adown the way that lead to the gates of a better day; A little more laughter, a few more tears, and we shall have told our increasing years. The book is closed and the prayers are said, and we are part of the countless dead,

And so we are going, where all must go, to the place the living may never know. Thrice happy if then some soul can say, “I’m better because he passed my way.”

** * * * * * * * * * * Practical Advice

–H. Jackson Brown, Jr. “Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice.”

“Always put something in the collection plate.” “Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a stroke of good luck.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Tithed

- unknown I held our tenth within the circle of my arms and

Proudly showed the world his infant charms. They all acclaimed him, handsome head to toe, One said ‘the tenth belongs to God, you know.’

At once defenses within my heart, Had the blessing come only to depart?

I knew the law of tithing, yet could I unselfishly give up this child?

But why? And reason struggled boldly to the fore, Hadn’t each of mine given one tenth and more of time and talents

to the work of God, proclaimed his gospel and his love abroad?

Oh, surely this would satisfy the debt, I’d keep them all, give some of each.

And yet a whispering doubt still lingered in my mind,

was this the light of truth, or was I blind? And then I knew that in my selfish way I had

forgotten Him to whom we pray. And ask for just such miracles as this,

A tiny soul to care for and to kiss, to bless our lives if only for a while, A gift of love, our favor to beguile;

No, my children are not tithed, think it not odd, for they are not mine, all belong to God.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Through All Eternity - unknown

We cannot know how deep the sorrow you may feel today, But none the less we pray our Father’s

blessings come your way. To comfort you and give you strength

throughout these days of grief, And hope the hurt and hopeless loss

will somehow be quite brief. There must have been a mission there that only she could fill,

and in her grace she humbly bowed unto her Father’s will, Knowing you would raise your children faithfully to be.

Worthy of her love and yours through all eternity. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Morituri Salutamus - Henery Wadsworth Longfellow

For age is opportunity no less Then youth itself, though in another dress,

And as the evening twilight fades away the sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * One Year To Live

- Mary Davis Reed If I had but one year to live;

one year to help; one year to give; One year to love; one year to bless; One year of better things to stress; One year to sing; one year to smile;

To brighten earth a little while; One year to sing my Maker’s praise; One year to fill with work my days;

One year to strive for reward When I should stand before my Lord,

I think that I would spend each day, In just the very self-same way

That I do now.

For from afar the call may come to cross the bar. At any time, and I must be prepared to meet

eternity. So if I have a year to live, Or just one day in which to give

A pleasant smile, a helping hand, A mind that tries to understand

A fellow – creature when in need, ‘Tis one with me- I take no heed; But try to live each day He sends To serve my gracious Master’s ends.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Tribute on the Passing of a Very Real Person

- unknown People are of two kinds, and he was the kind I’d like to be. Some preach their virtues, and a few express their lives by

What they do; that sort was he. No flowery phrase or glibly spoken

Spoken words of praise, won many true friends for him. He wasn’t cheap or shallow, but his course ran deep,

and it was indeed, pure. You know the kind. Not many in life would you find

Whose good and better deeds outrun their words so far Inspired and touched the lives of many…

Awakened the sleeping hearts to move into something deeper That more than what they seem, they are.

Now he is gone, but indeed a legacy has just arrived And it only had just began to continue from one life to another

And passing on continues .... on and on until the glory Goes back to where it rightfully belongs...

To the Master of all Master... where he is now in Bliss and solace, safely back heavenly Home.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Practical Advice

–H. Jackson Brown, Jr. “Share your knowledge. It’s a way to achieve immortality.”

“Don’t believe all you hear, spend all you have, or sleep all you want. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * *

It’s Simply Great - Sidney Warren Mase

It's great to be alive, and be A part of all that's going on;

To live and work and feel and see Life lived each day from early dawn;

To rise and with the morning light Go forth until the hours grow late,

Then joyously return at night And rest from honest toil -- it's great!

It's great to be a living part Of all the surging world alive,

And lend a hand in field and mart, A worker in this human hive;

To live and earn and dare to do,

Nor ever shirk or deviate From course or purpose we pursue! Until the goal is won -- it's great!

It's great to realize that we Are of a latent power possessed To be what we are willed to be,

And equal unto any test; That of ourselves we may achieve

To worthy deeds and high estate, If we but in our powers believe

It can and will be done -- it's great!

It's great and wonderful to know That all we have to do is do,

That if we will to grow we'll grow, And reach the mark we have to view;

To know that we're a vital part Of all that is, nor hesitate

With all of skill and mind and heart To work and win -- it's simply great!

* * * * * * * * * * * * Barter

- Marie Blake I will exchange a city for a sunset,

The tramp of legions for a winds wild cry. And, all the braggert thrusts of steel triumphant,

For one far summit, blue against the sky. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


“Never be the first to break a family tradition.” “Drive as you wish your kids would. Never speed or drive recklessly with children in the car.”

“Put love notes in your child’s lunch box.” “Never say anything uncomplimentary about another person’s dog.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * My Kate

- by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

She was not as pretty as women I know, And yet all your best made of sunshine and snow

Drop to shade, melt to naught in the long-trodden ways, While she's still remembered on warm and cold days-- My Kate.

Her air had a meaning, her movements a grace; You turned from the fairest to gaze on her face;

And when you had once seen her forehead and mouth, You saw as distinctly her soul and her truth-- My Kate.

Such a blue inner light from her eyelids out broke, You looked at her silence and fancied she spoke; When she did, so peculiar yet soft was the tone,

Though the loudest spoke also, you heard her alone - My Kate.

I doubt if she said to you much that could act As a thought or suggestion; she did not attract

In the sense of the brilliant or wise; I infer 'Twas her thinking of others made you think of her—

My Kate. She never found fault with you, never implied

Your wrong by her right; and yet men at her side Grew nobler, girls purer, as through the whole town The children were gladder that pulled at her gown—

My Kate

None knelt at her feet confessed lovers in thrall; They knelt more to God than they used--that was all;

If you praised her as charming, some asked what you meant, But the charm of her presence was felt when she went-- My Kate.

The weak and the gentle, the ribald and rude, She took as she found them, and did them all good;

It always was so with her--see what you have! She has made the grass greener even here with her grave-- My Kate.

My dear one! -- when thou wast alive with the rest, I held thee the sweetest and loved thee the best: And now thou art dead, shall I not take thy part

As thy smiles used to do for thyself, my sweet Heart -- My Kate.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * (Harriet Waters Preston, The Complete Poetical Works of Mrs. Browning (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin, 1900) 430-431.) Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861) was one of the most prominent poets of the Victorian era. Born at Coxhoe Hall, Durham, England, the eldest of 12 children, baptized into the Kelloe Parish Church, the family then moved to Hope End, a large estate in Herfordshire. Educated at home, tutored, she read passages from many writers. A studious subject with a fasination for the classics, she soon began writing her own poems (age 6), she married R. Browning and had her first child age 43, but he had no legitimate children. Her poetry was widely popular in both England and in the United States during her lifetime. A collection of her poems was published by her husband, Robert Browning Shortly after her death. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Crossing the Bar

-by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1889)

Sunset and evening star, and one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar, when I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep, Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, when I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crossed the bar.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Lord Alfred Tennyson, Baron (1809-1892) was Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom during much of Queen Victoria’s reign, and remains one of the most popular poets in the English language. Much of his verse was based on classical mythological themes, and he also wrote some notable short lyrics, such as the one above and below, as well as notable blank verses. He attempted to write drama but had little success. He wrote a number of phrases that have become commonplace in English language, such as ‘Tis better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all’, ‘Theirs is not to reason why, theirs is but to do and die’, and ‘Knowledge comes, but Wisdom lingers’. He is the second most frequently quoted writer in The Oxford Dictionary of Quotatations, following Shakespeare in popularity. Tennyson was born in Somersby, Linconlnshire, England, a rector’s son and 4th of 12 children. He came from a middle-class line of Tennysons, but of noble and royal ancestry. His father George Clayton Tennyson was a rector for Somersby and vicar of Grimsby. Rev. George raised a large family and was ‘a man of superior abilities and varied attainments, who tried his hand with fair success at architecture, painting, music, and poetry’, and who was ‘comfortably well-off for a country clergyman, who with shrewd money management enabled his family to spend summers at Mablethorpe and

Skegness, on the eastern coast of England’. Tennyson’s father ‘carefully attended to the education and training of each of his children’. His mother, Elizabeth Fytche, was the daughter of a vicar. Alfred attend King Edward Grammar School, and then Trinity College, Cambridge in 1827 where he joined a secret society called the Cambridge Apostles. He began writing poems at age six, and won the Chancellor’s Gold Medal at Cambridge (age 20) for ‘Timbuctoo’, one of his first pieces. In 1831, his father died, and he returned to the rectory before graduation at Cambridge, after which he helped care for his widowed mother for the next six years. During those years he continued writing more poems, and in 1833 he published his second book of poetry, which was met with heavy criticism, and caused him to become discouraged, so he did not publish again for 10 more years, although he continued to write during those years. His sister’s betrothed husband, Arthur Hallam, died in 1833, unexpectedly, and thereafter he wrote a long poem called In Memoriam A.H.H. which detailed the ‘Way of the Soul’. In 1842, while living in London, he published two more volumes of Poems, which were met with immediate success, some of the poems from this collections have met enduring fame, such as ‘Locksley Hall’, ‘Tithonus’, and ‘Ulysses’, ‘The Princess: A Medley’, and ‘Princess Ida’. In 1850 he met the pinnacle of his career, during that year he married Emily Sellwood, whom he had known since childhood, and they had two sons: Hallam and Lionel. It was in that same year he published his masterpiece, In Memoriam A.H.H. and later that same year he was appointed Poet Laureate, succeeding William Wordsworth; a position he held until his death in 1892, by far the longest tenure of any laureate before or since. Queen Victoria was an ardent admirer of his work, and in 1884 named him Baron Tennyson, which he accepted reluctantly. He took his seat in the House of Lords March 1884. He fulfilled the requirements of this position by turning out appropriate, but often uninspired verse, such as a poem of greeting to Alexandra of Denmark. In 1855, he produced one of his best known works ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’. He was the first man to the raised to the status of British Peerage for his writing, and he was never particularly comfortable as peer, and it was widely believed he took the peerage in order to secure a good future for his son, Hallam. Thomas Edison made recordings of Tennyson reciting his own poetry, late in life. Towards the end of his life, it was believed his religious beliefs leaned toward agnosticism and pantheism; he wrote in his journal ‘I believe in Pantheism of a sort’, and his biography confirms that he was not an orthodox Christian. He died in 1892 at the age of 83, and was buried at Westminster Abbey. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Little Match- Girl

- Hans Christian Andersen (Fairy Tales- 1846)

IT was terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of the old year, and the snow was falling fast. In the cold and the darkness, a poor little girl, with bare head and naked feet, roamed through the streets. It is true she had on a pair of slippers when she left home, but they were not of much use. They were very large, so large, indeed, that they had belonged to her mother, and the poor little creature had lost them in running across the street to avoid two carriages that were rolling along at a terrible rate. One of the slippers she could not find, and a boy seized upon the other and ran away with it, saying that he could use it as a cradle, when he had children of his own. So the little girl went on with her little naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried a number of matches, and had a bundle of them in her hands. No one had bought anything of her the whole day, nor had anyone given her even a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along; poor little child, she looked the picture of misery. The snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which hung in curls on her shoulders, but she regarded them not.

Lights were shining from every window, and there was a savory smell of roast goose, for it was New-year’s eve—yes, she remembered that. In a corner, between two houses, one of which projected beyond the other, she sank down and huddled herself together. She had drawn her little feet under her, but she could not keep off the cold; and she dared not go home, for she had sold no matches, and could not take home even a penny of money. Her father would certainly beat her; besides, it was

almost as cold at home as here, for they had only the roof to cover them, through which the wind howled, although the largest holes had been stopped up with straw and rags. Her little hands were almost frozen with the cold. Ah! perhaps a burning match might be some good, if she could draw it from the bundle and strike it against the wall, just to warm her fingers. She drew one out—“scratch!” how it sputtered as it burnt! It gave a warm, bright light, like a little candle, as she held her hand over it. It was really a wonderful light. It seemed to the little girl that she was sitting by a large iron stove, with polished brass feet and a brass ornament. How the fire burned! and seemed so beautifully warm that the child stretched out her feet as if to warm them, when, lo! the flame of the

match went out, the stove vanished, and she had only the remains of the half-burnt match in her hand.

She rubbed another match on the wall. It burst into a flame, and where its light fell upon the wall it became as transparent as a veil, and she could see into the room. The table was covered with a snowy white table-cloth, on which stood a splendid dinner service, and a steaming roast goose, stuffed with apples and dried plums. And what was still more wonderful, the goose jumped down from the dish and waddled across the floor, with a knife and fork in its breast, to the little girl. Then the match went out, and there remained nothing but the thick, damp, cold wall before her.

She lighted another match, and then she found herself sitting under a beautiful Christmas-tree. It was larger and more beautifully decorated than the one which she had seen through the glass door at the rich merchant’s. Thousands of tapers were burning upon the green branches, and colored pictures, like those she had seen in the show-windows, looked down upon it all. The little one stretched out her hand towards them, and the match went out. The Christmas lights rose higher and higher, till they looked to her like the stars in the sky. Then she saw a star fall, leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. “Someone is dying,” thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul was going up to God.

She again rubbed a match on the wall, and the light shone round her; in the brightness stood her old grandmother, clear and shining, yet mild and loving in her appearance. “Grandmother,” cried the little one, “O take me with you; I know you will go away when the match burns out; you will vanish like the warm stove, the roast goose, and the large, glorious Christmas-tree.” And she made haste to light the whole bundle of matches, for she wished to keep her grandmother there. And the matches

glowed with a light that was brighter than the noon-day, and her grandmother had never appeared so large or so beautiful. She took the little girl in her arms, and they both flew upwards in brightness and joy far above the earth, where there was neither cold nor hunger nor pain, for they were with God. In the dawn of morning there lay the poor little one, with pale cheeks and smiling mouth, leaning against the wall; she had been frozen to death on the last evening of the year; and the New-year’s sun rose and shone upon a little corpse! The child still sat, in the stiffness of death, holding the matches in her hand, one bundle of which was burnt. “She tried to warm herself,” said some. No one imagined what beautiful things she had seen, nor into what glory she had entered with her grandmother, on New-year’s day.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

His Apologies - Rudyard Kipling

Master, this is Thy Servant. He is rising eight weeks old.

He is mainly Head and Tummy. His legs are uncontrolled. But Thou hast forgiven his ugliness,

and settled him on Thy knee... Art Thou content with Thy Servant?

He is very comfy with Thee. Master, behold a Sinner! He hath committed a wrong.

He hath defiled Thy Premises through being kept in too long.

Wherefore his nose has been rubbed in the dirt, and his self-respect has been bruised.

Master, pardon Thy Sinner, and see he is properly loosed.

Master-again Thy Sinner! This that was once Thy Shoe, He has found and taken and carried aside, as fitting matter to chew.

Now there is neither blacking nor tongue, and the Housemaid has us in tow.

Master, remember Thy Servant is young, and tell her to let him go! Master, extol Thy Servant, he has met a most Worthy Foe!

There has been fighting all over the Shop – and into the Shop also! Till cruel umbrellas parted the strife

(or I might have been choking him yet), But Thy Servant has had the Time of his Life –

and now shall we call on the vet?

Master, behold Thy Servant! Strange children came to play, And because they fought to caress him, Thy Servant wentedst away. But now that the Little Beasts have gone, he has returned to see (Brushed – with his Sunday collar on) what they left over from tea. Master, pity Thy Servant! He is deaf and three parts blind.

He cannot catch Thy Commandments He cannot read Thy Mind. Oh, leave him not to his loneliness; nor make him that

kitten's scorn. He hath had none other God than Thee since the year that he was born.

Lord, look down on Thy Servant! Bad things have come to pass.

There is no heat in the midday sun, nor health in the wayside grass.

His bones are full of an old disease – his torments run and increase.

Lord, make haste with Thy Lightning’s And grant him a quick release!


–H. Jackson Brown, Jr. “Don’t overlook life’s small joys while searching for the big ones.”

“When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.” “Talk slow but think quick.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Madness

By Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918) The lonely farm, the crowded street,

The palace and the slum, Give welcome to my silent feet

As, bearing gifts, I come. Last night a beggar crouched alone,

A ragged helpless thing; I set him on a moonbeam throne--

Today he is a king. Last night a king in orb and crown Held court with splendid cheer;

Today he tears his purple gown And moans and shrieks in fear.

Not iron bars, nor flashing spears, Not land, nor sky, nor sea, Nor love's artillery of tears

Can keep mine own from me. Serene, unchanging, ever fair,

I smile with secret mirth And in a net of mine own hair

I swing the captive earth. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918) was an American journalist and poet, his best-known work is ‘Trees’. The poem was given a musical setting and was quiet popular in the 1940’s and 50’s. He was born in New Brunswick, NJ, and attended Rutgers College, and Columbia. He married Aline Murray, was a member of the US Army 165th Infantry, and was killed in action during WWI. He is buried in France. Other works of his are ‘Madness’ and ‘The House with

nobody in it’ and ‘Prayer of a Soldier in France’.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Down In My Heart

- Roxie Lusk Smith Bright as a blue sky – light as a cloud,

Joyful within me Sing aloud! Life is so precious I want to express love

To my Father for each happiness! Sorrows? I know them, cheeks course the tears

But oh, God has blessed me all through the years. Thy beautiful spirit has lifted my soul,

Through aging and faulted, I’m young and I’m whole! Shafts of his splendor pierce my every dark cloud.

Happy within me I sing aloud! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


“When talking to your doctor, don’t let him or her interrupt or end the session early. It’s your body and your money. Stay until all your questions are answered to your satisfaction.”

“Be engaged at least six months before you get married.” * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Alfred Joyce Kilmer 1886-1918


* * * * * * * * * * * * Auction Sale - Household Furnishings

- Adele De Leeuw

“Nothing much here!” They say, with careless glances, And sly disdainful pokes they pass.

“I only came because there was a chance of getting something cheap. But then, this class of people

seldom has a thing worthwhile.” Coming and going ... jibes in every tone.

“There’s not much here!” Face frozen in a smile, she stands among them, terrible alone. Hearing the auctioneer’s decisive cries,

Hearing them bid, half mocking, have a used, Praying, with pain that stabs between the eyes,

That no one wants the mug her baby used. Clutching her heart when someone takes away

All her young married life in one small day. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Steps to Immortality - unknown

If death did not prevail and have its way There would be no resurrection day,

And if there were no resurrection morn, We may as well never have been born.

For if man would gain immortality Every step must be accomplished He may choose his own reward;

Endless strife or exaltation and eternal life. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Progression - unknown

Our temporal death is but a change from one sphere to another,

We will go on with those we know, Our father and our mother.

The spirit changes when it is born into this veil of tears,

Were you and I afraid to take the step toward these years? Then let us not resist the way

of progress; look ahead When we will dwell once more with God and mourn not for the dead.

* * * * * * * * * * Practical Advice

–H. Jackson Brown, Jr. “Don’t think that sending a gift or flowers substitutes for your presence.”

“Turn enemies into friends by doing something nice for them.” “Think twice before accepting the lowest bid.”

“Never buy anything electrical at a flea market.” “Everyone loves praise. Look hard for ways to give it to them.” “Be an original. If that means being a little eccentric, so be it.

“What you must do, do cheerfully.” * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Count Your Garden - unknown

Count your garden by the flowers; Never by the leaves that fall;

Count your days by golden hours; Don’t remember clouds at all.

Count the nights by star, not shadows; Count your life by smiles, not tears;

And with joy on every birthday, Count your age by friends, not years.

* * * * * * * * * * * * The Closed Door

- Theodosia Garrison I never crossed your threshold with a grief

But that I went without it; never came Heart hungry but you fed me, eased the blame,

And gave the sorrow solace and relief. I never left you but I took away

The love that drew me to your side again Through that wide door that never could remain

Quite closed between us for a little day. Oh! Friend, who gave and comforted, who knew

So over-well the want of heart and mind, Where may I turn to solace now, or find Relief from this unceasing loss of you?

Be it for fault, for folly, or for sin, Oh! terrible my penance, and most sore

To face the tragedy of that closed door Whereby I pass and may not enter in.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Quickly Forgotten

- Michael Dubina How quickly are forgotten the blessings

of the Lord that light our way – by night and day, but bear no great reward;

just simple little graces, that keep us safe from harm, and comfort us

within his care, of ever loving arms. But how long we bear in mind, some prayer

He failed to heed, that would have pleased some whim of our or satisfied some greed,

forgetting (as we choose to do) His gifts of love each day that wake us every morning and grace

our work and play. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


“Accept the fact that regardless of how many times you are right, you will sometimes be wrong.” Never swap your integrity for money, power, or fame.”

“Become the kind of person who brightens a room by entering it.” “Watch “The Andy Griffith Show” to help put things in perspective.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Joy of Incompleteness - Albert Crowell

If all our life were one broad glare Of sunlight clear, unclouded:

If all our path were smooth and fair, By no soft gloom enshrouded;

If all life’s flowers were fully blown Without the sweet unfolding,

And happiness were rudely thrown On hands too weak for holding –

Should we not miss the twilight hours, The gentle haze and sadness?

Should we not long for storms and showers To break the constant gladness?

If none were sick and none were sad,

What service could we render? I think if we were always glad

We scarcely could be tender. Did our beloved never need

Our patient ministration,

Earth would grow cold and miss indeed Its sweetest consolation:

If sorrow never claimed our heart And every wish were granted

Patience would die, and hope depart Life would be disenchanted.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Hungering Hearts

- Anonymous Some hearts go hungering through the world,

And never find the love they seek ; Some lips with pride or scorn are curled,

To hide the pain they may not speak ; The eye may flash, the mouth may smile,

The voice in gladdest music thrill, And yet beneath them all the while,

The hungry heart be pining still.

O eager eyes which gaze afar ! O arms which clasp the empty air ! Not all unmarked your sorrows are,

Not all unpitied your despair. Smile, patient lips, so proudly dumb ; When life's frail tent at last is furled,

Your glorious recompense shall come, O hearts that hunger through the world !

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Pain - Elsie Robinson

Why must I be hurt? Suffering and despair, Cowardice and cruelty, Envy and justice, all of these hurt.

Grief and terror, loneliness and betrayal, and the agony of loss of death- all of these hurt as well.

Why? Why must life hurt? Why must those who love generously, live honorably, feel deeply, all that is good and beautiful, be so hurt

while selfish creatures go unscathed?

Because they can feel. That is why, Hurt is the price to pay for feeling. Pain is not accident, nor punishment, nor mockery, by some savage God. Pain is part of growth. The more we grow, the more we feel. The more we feel, the

more we suffer. For we are able to feel beauty, we must also feel the lack of it.

Those who glimpse heaven, are bound to sight hell. To have felt deeply is worth anything it cost. To have felt love and honor, courage and ecstasy, is

worth, any price. And so, since hurt is the price, of larger living, I will not, hate pain, nor try to meet it.

But, bravely bare it proudly. Not as a cross, or misfortune. But, an opportunity, a privilege, and a challenge – to the God that gropes within me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Do Something

“When the going gets tough, the tough get going”. * * * * * * * * * * * *

In Your Absence - Elizabeth Baxter

It may be when the sunlight strikes the sill A certain way. Your hand once rested there,

And so, remembering that, my heart stands still, As one who has been running stops for air.

Or in a crowd some friend may say your name, Or just a name that's similar to yours,

And all my pulses leap as leaps a flame When someone adds a twig. These are your lures, The snares your hand and voice have set for me

Are many as the things I hear and see. * * * * * * * * *


“Memorize your favorite love poem.” “Set aside your dreams for your children and help them attain their own dreams.”

“Allow your children to face the consequences of their actions.” “Open your arms to change, but don’t let go of your values.”

“When you say, ‘I love you’, mean it.” “When you say, ‘I’m sorry,’ look the person in the eye.”

“Remember that a good price is not necessarily what an object is marked, but what it is worth to you.” “Don’t trust your memory; write it down.

” * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * Silence

- Edgar Lee Masters (1869- ) I have known the silence of the stars and of the sea,

And the silence of the city when it pauses, And the silence of a man and a maid,

And the silence of the sick When their eyes roam about the room.

And I ask: For the depths, Of what use is language?

A beast of the field moans a few times When death takes its young.

And we are voiceless in the presence of realities -- We cannot speak.

A curious boy asks an old soldier sitting in front of the grocery store,

"How did you lose your leg?" And the old soldier is struck with silence, Or his mind flies away because he cannot concentrate it on Gettysburg.

It comes back jocosely and he says, "A bear bit it off." And the boy wonders, while the old soldier dumbly, feebly lives over The flashes of guns, the thunder of cannon, the shrieks of the slain,

And himself lying on the ground, and the hospital surgeons, the knives, And the long days in bed.

But if he could describe it all he would be an artist. But if he were an artist there would be deeper wounds

Which he could not describe.

There is the silence of a great hatred, and the silence of a great love, and the silence of an embittered friendship.

There is the silence of a spiritual crisis, through which your soul, exquisitely tortured, comes with visions not to be uttered

Into a realm of higher life. There is the silence of defeat. There is the silence of those unjustly punished;

And the silence of the dying whose hand suddenly grips yours. There is the silence between father and son, when the father cannot explain his

life, even though he be misunderstood for it. There is the silence that comes between husband

and wife. There is the silence of those who have failed;

And the vast silence that covers broken nations and vanquished leaders. There is the silence of Lincoln, thinking of the poverty of his youth.

And the silence of Napoleon after Waterloo. And the silence of Jeanne d'Arc saying amid the flames,

"Blessed Jesus" -- Revealing in two words all sorrows, all hope. And there is the silence of age, too full of wisdom for the tongue to utter it

In words intelligible to those who have not lived the great range of life. And there is the silence of the dead.

If we who are in life cannot speak of profound experiences, Why do you marvel that the dead Do not tell you of death?

Their silence shall be interpreted as we approach them. * * * * * * * * * * *


“Don’t confuse mere inconveniences with real problems.” “When friends offer to help, let them.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * The Hate and Love of the World

- Max Erhmann I have seen men binding their brothers in chains,

and crafty traders reaching for the bread that women and children lifted to their mouths;

I have seen suffering go unaided. I have heard the iron din of war,

and have seen the waxen face of early death; And I have cried in my heart, "The world is hate!"

I have heard birds calling their mates in the still forests, and insects chirping to their loves

in the tangled grass of meadows; I have seen mothers caressing their babes,

and aged men supporting with devotion the slow steps of stooping women; I have seen cheerful hearthstones surrounded by laughing

children and strong men and happy women; I have heard the tender words of lovers in the pure passion of youth;

And I have cried in my heart, "The world is love!" * * * * * * * * * *

Talk Not Of - unknown

Talk not of strength, ‘ill your heart has known and fought with weakness through long hours alone.

Talk not of virtue, ‘till your conquering soul has met temptation and gained full control.

Boast not of garments, all unscorched by sin, ‘till you have passed unscathed through fires within.

* * * * * * * * * * * Quiet Days

- Mildred T. Mey The gentle, cheerful ticking of a clock; A cloud that moves in leisurely pursuit;

The slow erosion of an ageless rock; The timeless roar of sea that is not mute;

The patient building of a hill by ants; The laboured steps before a child can walk;

The months when baby's words are chirps and chants, Before he has acquired the skill of talk -

These made me wonder at my restless haste, But it was illness that taught me to know That quiet days are not a barren waste;

Though one lies still, the heart and mind can grow. * * * * * * * * * * * *


“Don’t eat any meat loaf but your mom’s.” “Don’t stop the parade to pick up a dime.”

“Encourage anyone who is trying to improve mentally, physically, or spiritually.” “Overestimate travel time by 15 percent.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Raven

- Edgar Allen Poe (Published in 1845)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. `'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -

Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating `'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -

This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, `Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; - Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!' This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then, what there at is, and this mystery explore –

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - 'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door

Perched, and sat, and nothing more. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Raven part 2

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, art sure no craven. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' Much I marveled this ungainly fowl

to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,

With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -

On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.' Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore

Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, me thought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!' Quoth the raven, ‘Nevermore.'


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Raven part 3

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -

Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -

Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'

Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting - `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!

Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted - nevermore!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) was an American writer, poet, editor and literary critic. Best known for his tales of mystery and the macabre, who was one of the earliest American practitioners of the

short story and is considered the inventor of the detective-fiction genre. Born in Boston, Massachusetts, at the time his parents were playing at the Federal State Theater. His mother died

in 1811, and he then moved in with the Allan family, who moved to Britain, England. Poe attended school at Manor House, near London, and by 1820 he was back in New York. In 1821 the Allans moved to Fifth Street, New York, where Edgar attended Clarke School. In 1823 Poe

attend William Burke’s School. In 1826 Poe entered the University of Virginia. In 1827 Poe and John Allan had a serious row, and then Poe left Richmond, Virginia for Boston, Mass. April 7th 1827 Poe arrived in Boston. Poe then enlisted in the US Army under the name Edgar A. Perry at age 18, and after several years he entered West Point Academy in N.Y. Poe won the first prize in a competition in The Baltimore Saturday Visitor with M.S. After military service, Poe married his

13-year old cousin, Virginia Clemm, who lived only a few years. Her early death may have inspired some of his writing. At age 38, in 1848 Poe traveled to Providence, Rhode Island to meet Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman

(another poet) to whom he made a proposal of marriage. She accepted, and a marriage agreement was drawn up, and the wedding was to take place a few days later, but the engagement was broken off at the last minute. In 1849, he went to Richmond where he met Sarah Elmira Royster, whom he hoped to marry (at age 40). He gave a lecture in Richmond and in Norfolk. Sept 27 1849 he went to New York, on Oct 3, he was discovered unconscious in Baltimore and was taken to the Washington College Hospital. On Oct 7, 1849 Poe died at 5 a.m. at the young age of 40 years old; the circumstances leading up to his death remains a mystery, and the cause of death is disputed. He was found delirious in the street of Baltimore, MD ‘in great distress and in need of immediate

medical assistance’, according to the person who found him. He was taken to the hospital but a few days later. He never regained consciousness again. His works were later published by his rival, who depicted him as a depraved, drug-addled madman and

drunk, which has been disputed strongly by his family and friends. There is evidence in his writings of psychotic aspirations and visitations of the Dark One.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Poems about Friendship and Relationships

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Now

If you have hard work to do - do it now! Today the skies are clear and blue,

Tomorrow clouds may come in view, Yesterday is not for you - do it now! If you have a song to sing Sing it now! Let the notes of gladness ring, Clear as song of bird in spring, Let every day some music bring

Sing it now! If you have kind words to say

Say them now! Tomorrow may not come your way,

Do a kindness while you may, Loved ones will not always stay

Say them now! If you have a smile to show

Show it now! Make hearts happy, roses grow,

Let the friends around you know The love you have before they go

Show it now! - Charles R. Skinner

( Published in The Advance, Chicago - Jan 4, 1906) * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Friend’s Love “What brings joy to the heart is not so much the friend’s gift as the friend’s

love.” - Aelred of Rievaulx * * * * * * * * * * * * *


“Read more books.” “Watch less television.”

“When you find something you really want, don’t let a few dollars keep you from getting it.”

“Be gentle with the Earth.” * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * Jim, Johnny, and Jonas

Composer: Johnny Bond Jim, Johnny, and Jonas

We miss you since you sailed away Each moment without you gets Longer and longer each day.

Come back to Hawaii, Back to your Darlings so true

Jim, Johnny and Jonas We’re waiting, just waiting for you.

One night while the full moon was shining

So bright there was hardly a star I strolled down a beach in Hawaii

And was thrilled to hear A distant guitar and there in the moonlight

They wandered - three maids by the water so blue And that sweet melody they kept singing

Just listen I’ll sing it to you:

Jim, Johnny, and Jonas We miss you since you sailed away

Each moment without you gets Longer and longer each day.

Come back to Hawaii, Back to your Darlings so true

Jim, Johnny and Jonas We’re waiting, just waiting for you.

Tag: Jim, Johnny, and Jonas We’re waiting, just waiting for you.

(A popular song recorded by several companies, performed by Bing Crosby, Published in 1955.) Note: Us girls used to sit around thinking about our missing guy-friends and sing this song together.

* * * * * * * * * * * Your Own Version

- Paul Gilbert You are writing a Gospel, a chapter each day; By deeds that you do, by words that you say.

Men read what you write whether faithless or true; Say, what is the Gospel according to you?

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Scarlet Letter -Napoleon Hill

I never see a person trying to disclose the scarlet letter on another’s breast that I do not wonder if he doesn’t carry some mark of disgrace which would ruin him,

had he been overtaken by justice. * * * * * * * * * *


“Never tell a man he’s losing his hair. He already knows.” “Remove your sunglasses when you talk to someone.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Grudges

Just as it takes two to enter into a partner ship, so it takes two to dissolve it - likewise, friendship cannot be broken without the aid and consent of both parties. A school mate recently remarked, when inquired concerning her

friend of long-standing. I don’t speak to her any more. I couldn’t believe that anyone who had shared deep friendship, kindness, mutual profit, and

happiness, as they had, could possibly dissolve such harmony and association, all the beauty of their friendship was destroyed because of one

misunderstanding.

Imagine letting one error stand against a thousand kindnesses and helpful actions of years of association! A friendship which they

had cultivated during their whole life-time should not be dispensed within a moment. I urged her not to destroy a thing so precious for to hold a grudge is human; but ‘to forgive is divine’,

and is required of us from the Man of Nazareth. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Most Wonderful Work (The most wonderful work in all the world

is not to take iron and steel and cogwheels and make a locomotive or a watch. Nor is it to take pen and parchment

and write an Iliad. Nor is it to take paint and brush and canvas and paint an Angelus. But an infinitely greater task than all this is to take an ignoble, dishonest man and transform him

into an upright lovable and honest man. Here we touch the creative power of the Galilean and bow before the mysteries of

God.) -George R. Wellington

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * What is a friend?

- Unknown What is a friend? I'll tell you.

A friend is a person with whom you dare to be yourself.

Your soul can go naked with him. He asks you to put on nothing, only to be who you really are.

When you are with him you don't have to be on your guard.

You can say what you think, so long as it is genuinely you.

He understands those contradictions in your nature that cause others

to misjudge you. With him you breathe freely.

You can avow your little vanities and envies and absurdities and, in opening them up to him, they are dissolved in the vast ocean of his loyalty.

He understands. You can weep with him, laugh with him, pray with him. Through and underneath it all he sees, knows, and loves you. A Friend, I repeat, is one with whom you dare to be yourself.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Sinner

- Margaret E. Bruner They whispered when she passed –

Gave knowing looks that hinted Vastly more then what was said;

Inferring that her past held darkest nooks; Her reputation was a tattered shred.

And yet, she walked among them calm, serene, Like one who from deep suffering had found,

An Inner peace – a staff on which to lean- It seemed as if she trod on holy ground.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Little Words - Benjamin Keech

“Yes, you did, too.” “I did not.” Thus by unkind little words,

Two fond friends were parted. “I am sorry.” “So am I.”

Thus the little quarrel ended, Thus by loving little words two bonded

hearts were mended. * * * * * * * * * * *

Friendship - Ralph Waldo Emerson

The only way to have a friend is to be one, A friend is a person with whom I may be sincere,

Before him I may think aloud, Happy is the house that shelters a friend,

A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature. Let the soul be assured that somewhere in the universe it should

rejoin it’s friend, And it would be content and cheerful

Alone for a thousand years. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

No Enemies - Charles Mackay

You have no enemies, you say? Alas, friend, the boast is poor:

He who hath mingled in the fray of duty, That the brave endure must have made foes?

If you have none, small is the work that you have done. You hit no traitor on the hip,

You’ve dashed no cup from perjured lip, You’ve never turned the wrong to right.

You’ve been a coward in the fight. * * * * * * * * * * * *


“Don’t do business with people who knock on your door and say, ‘I just happened to be in the neighborhood.’”

“Make a habit of reading something inspiring and cheerful just before going to sleep.” * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Like My Friends - Joy Elmer Morgan

One tends to become like his friends and to be judged by them.

Avoid attaching to yourself as friends persons who are intemperate,

Avaricious, extravagant, or ungrateful. * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Vanished Friend - Charles Hanson Towne (1877-1949, written 1900)

Around the corner I have a friend, In this great city that has no end,

Yet the days go by and weeks rush on, And before I know it, a year is gone. And I never see my old friends face, For life is a swift and terrible race, He knows I like him just as well,

As in the days when I rang his bell. And he rang mine but we were younger then,

And now we are busy, tired men.

Tired of playing a foolish game, Tired of trying to make a name.

"Tomorrow" I say! "I will call on Jim Just to show that I'm thinking of him",

But tomorrow comes and tomorrow goes, And distance between us grows and grows.

Around the corner, yet miles away, "Here's a telegram sir," "Jim died today."

And that's what we get and deserve in the end. Around the corner, a vanished friend.

* * * * * * * * * * * Charles Hanson Towne (1877-1949) was an author, poet, editor, and popular New York celebrity. He moved from Kentucky to New York City with his family at the age of three. Towne began his literary career quite early as the eleven year old “publisher” of the Unique Monthly, a children's magazine written by and for Towne and his friends. After a year at City College, Towne got his first break as an editorial assistant at Cosmopolitan magazine. In 1901 he moved to the Smart Set, a new magazine for a sophisticated urban clientele, where he held numerous positions before becoming editor in 1904. Smart Set was the first of the many important magazines Towne was to edit, including the Delineator (1907-1910), Designer (1910-1915), McClure's (1914-1920), and Harper's Bazaar (1926-1929). In addition to his editorial duties, Towne was a prolific writer. He authored numerous volumes of poetry, novels, plays, travel essays, an etiquette book, song cycles, lyrics for musicals and operettas, and memoirs. Much of his writing celebrates New York City, most notably his work Manhattan: A Poem (1909) and his books of reminiscences. Towne was felt by many to the the quintessential New Yorker. From 1931-1937 he wrote a personal and literary column for the New York American, taught a poetry course at Columbia University, and in 1940 joined the touring company of the Broadway hit, Life With Father. In 1945 Towne summed up his career with the autobiography, So Far, So Good.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Your Friends Reflect You

Show me who your friends are, and I’ll show you who you are. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * You Tell On Yourself

- Anonymous You tell on yourself by the friends you seek,

By the very manner in which you speak, By the way you employ your leisure time, By the use you make of dollar and dime.

You tell what you are by the things you wear, By the spirit in which your burdens you bear,

By the kind of things at which you laugh, By the records you play on the phonograph. You tell what you are by the way you walk, By the things of which you delight to talk, By the manner in which you bear defeat,

By so simple a thing as how you eat. By the books you choose from the well-filled shelf;

By these ways and more, you tell on yourself; So there's really no particle of sense

In an effort to keep up false pretense. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Friendship is Like a Garden Friendship is like a garden,

it must be constantly cared for. * * * * * * * * * * *

Friendship is a Sheltering Tree Flowers are lovely; love is flower-like;

Friendship is a sheltering tree; Oh the joys that came down shower-like;

Of friendship, love and liberty. - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

* * * * * * * * * * * * * A Thank You For Friends

- Rodney Bennett There are all kinds of men who have done me good turns,

That I still never think about, not for a minute; Yet if I were making up that sort of grace, They would, all of them, have to be in it.

One man made up stories, another wrote verses I found, and I liked, and I read till I knew them. Another one saw all the things they had written,

Then, being an artist, he drew them. .Another took wood and a saw and some glue,

And put each of them just in the place that would need it-- So that in the chair where I sit with my book

And am so much at ease as I read it. .I'm forgetting the one who read tale after tale

When I was too young to know letter from letter, And the other one who taught me them, Till in the end I could read for myself--

Which was better. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * *

New Friends and Old Friends - Joseph Parry

Make new friends, but keep the old, Those are silver, these are gold.

New-made friendships, like new wine, age will mellow and refine.

Friendships that have stood the test – Time and change – are surely best; Brow may wrinkle, hair grow gray;

Friendship never knows decay. For ‘mid old friends, tried and true,

Once more we our youth renew, but old friends, alas! May die; New friends must their supply,

Cherish friendship in your breast – New is good, but old is best;

Make new friends, but keep the old, Those are silver, these are gold.

* * * * * * * * * * * A Tender Message - Frank Herbert Sweet

If you have a tender message Or a loving word to say

Do not wait until you forget it, But whisper it today;

The tender word unspoken, The letter never sent,

The long-forgotten messages, The wealth of love unspent--

For these some hearts are breaking, for these some loved ones wait;

So show me that you care for them, before it is too late. * * * * * * * * * *

The Gift of Friendship - Helen Steiner Rice

Friendship is a priceless gift that cannot be bought or sold, But its value is far greater than a mountain made of gold.

For gold is cold and lifeless, it can neither see nor hear, And in the times of trouble it is powerless to cheer.

It has no ears to listen, no heart to understand. It cannot bring you comfort or reach out a helping hand. So when you ask God for a gift, be thankful if he sends

Not diamonds, pearls or riches, but the love of real true friends. Friends, Today I will marry my best friend

The one I have laughed and cried with, The one I have learned from and shared with,

The one I have chosen to support, encourage and give myself to through all these days

God has given us to share * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Patience With The Living

- Margaret E. Sangster

Sweet friend, when you and I are gone beyond earth’s weary labor,

When small shall be our need of grace from comrade or from neighbor;

Passed all the strife, the toil, the care, And done with all the sighing –

What tender truth shall we have gained, Alas! By simple dying?

Then lips too chary of their praise will tell our merits over, And eyes too swift our faults to

see shall no defect discover. Then hands that would not lift a stone

where stones were thick to cumber Our steep hill-path, will scatter flowers

above our pillowed slumber. Sweet friend, perchance both you and I,

ere love is past forgiving, Should take the earnest lesson

home – be patient with the living. Today’s repressed rebuke may save

our blinding tears to-morrow; Then patience, e’en when keenest edge

may whet a nameless sorrow! ‘Tis easy to be gentle when death’s silence

shames our clamor, And easy to discern the best through

memory’s mystic glamour; Be wise it were for you and me,

ere love is past forgiving, To take the tender lesson home –

be patient with the living. - The medical Missionary – by John Harvey Kellogg, 1906.

* * * * * * * * * * * The Touch of Human Hands

- Thomas Curtis Clark The touch of human hands – that is the boon we ask,

For groping, day by day, along the stony way We need the comrade heart, that understands

And the warmth, the living warmth of human hands. The touch of human hands; not vain unthinking words,

Nor that cold charity which shuns our misery. We seek a loyal friend who understands,

And the warmth, the pulsing warmth of human hands. * * * * * * * * * * *

Selfishness Margaret E. Bruner

Death takes our loved one – we are bowed in grief, for whom? Are we not selfish? A mourner weeps for himself - the dead know naught of sorrow.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Parting

- Coventry Patmore If thou dos’t bid thy friend fare, but for one night through that well, farewell may be, press thou his hand in thine. How cans’t

thou tell how for from thee, Fate or caprice may lead his steps ‘ere that tomorrow comes? Men have been known to lightly turn the

corner of a street, And days have grown to months, and months to lagging years,

‘Ere they have looked to loving eyes again. Parting at best, is under laid with tears and pain. Therefore, lest sudden death

should come between, Or time, or distance, clap with pressure firm the hand of him who goeth forth unseen, Fate goeth too.

Yes, find thou always time to say some earnest word between the idle talk, lest with thee henceforth, night and day regret should

walk.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Good-bye

- Margaret E. Brunner Good- bye can be a happy word, when lightly spoken,

As if a carefree heart conferred a trifling token. But when we part from those held dear, the voice grows tender

We smile to hide the unwelcome tear, and scorn surrender. Hands clasped, and seeing eye to eye, all else unheeding,

How sacred is the word good-bye, like suppliants pleading. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Giving and Forgiving - Thomas Grant Springer

What makes life worth the living is our giving and forgiving?

Giving tiny bits of kindness that will leave a joy behind us, and forgiving bitter trifles,

that the right word often stifles, For the little things are bigger then we often stop to figure.

What makes life worth the lving is our giving and forgiving.

* * * * * * * * * * * * There are Two Births

- William Carlwright There are two births; the one when light

first strikes the new awakened sense; The other when two souls unite,

and we must count our life from thence; When you love me and I loved you,

then both of us were born anew. Taken from ‘To Chloe”, by William Carlwright

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Thoughtful Word

The thoughtful word of encouragement that may be of use in teaching us – no so much what we are – but what we can, and ought

to be. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * *

Praise - R. H. Grenville

Praise is a quiet and a gracious thing, Like buds slow-forming, where the woods are bare,

Or silent recognition of the spring waiting to break upon the tremulous air.

Praise is a pillow to the tired head; a lamp to light the traveler on his way; It's the generous sacrament of bread

shared between strangers at the close of day. Swift is the word of praise to soothe

the smart of old defeats, to light the troubled face; Sweeter, oh, sweeter to the thirsty heart then streams of water in a desert place!

* * * * * * * * * *


Poems about History & Teaching

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Hand That Rocks The Cradle

The hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Concord Hymn - Ralph Waldo Emerson

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,

Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world.

The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;

And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set to-day a votive stone;

That memory may their deed redeem, When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those heroes dare To die, and leave their children free,

Bid Time and Nature gently spare The shaft we raise to them and thee.

(This poem was sung as a hymn at a July 4, 1837 ceremony to mark the completion of the Concord Monument, to

immortalize the resistance of American Minutemen to British forces on April 19, 1775. The poem’s phrase ‘shot heard around the world’ is now internationally famous for its description of the philosophical importance of the American

Revolution.) * * * * * * * * * * * * *


“In disagreements with loved ones, deal with the current situation. Don’t bring up the past.” “Don’t take good friends, good health, or a good marriage for granted.”

“Remember that a good example is the best sermon. “Every so often let your spirit of adventure triumph over your good sense.”

“Remember that what you give will afford you more pleasure than what you get.” * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Columbus by Joaquin Miller

Behind him lay the gray Azores, Behind the Gates of Hercules;

Before him not the ghost of shores, Before him only shoreless seas.

The good mate said: “Now must we pray, For lo! the very stars are gone.

Brave Admiral, speak, what shall I say?” “Why, say, ‘Sail on! sail on! and on!’” “My men grow mutinous day by day; My men grow ghastly wan and weak.”

The stout mate thought of home; a spray Of salt wave washed his swarthy cheek. “What shall I say, brave Admiral, say, If we sight naught but seas at dawn?” “Why, you shall say at break of day, ‘Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!’”

They sailed and sailed, as winds might blow, Until at last the blanched mate said:

“Why, now not even God would know Should I and all my men fall dead. These very winds forget their way,

For God from these dread seas is gone. Now speak, brave Admiral, speak and say”—

He said: “Sail on! sail on! and on!” They sailed. They sailed. Then spake the mate:

“This mad sea shows his teeth to-night. He curls his lip, he lies in wait, With lifted teeth, as if to bite!

Brave Admiral, say but one good word: What shall we do when hope is gone?” The words leapt like a leaping sword:

“Sail on! sail on! sail on! and on!” Then, pale and worn, he kept his deck,

And peered through darkness. Ah, that night Of all dark nights! And then a speck—

A light! A light! A light! A light! It grew, a starlit flag unfurled!

It grew to be Time’s burst of dawn. He gained a world; he gave that world

Its grandest lesson: “On! sail on!” * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Cincinnatus Heine (or Hiner) Miller (1841-1913) whose pen name was Joaquin Miller, was a colorful American poet, essayist, called the Poet of the Sierras, was like the Quaker abolitionist and politician John Greenleaf Whittier - far more interesting as a person than as a poet. Born in Union County, Indiana, of German parents with Quaker beliefs. He moved to Oregon in 1850, and seems to have tried his hand at practically every line of work available on the American frontier: lawyer, judge, pony express rider, reporter, teacher, cook, gold-miner, cowboy and, by some accounts, horse thief, and living with the Modoc Indians; supposedly he married a Modoc woman named Paquita, but the accounts are not always reliable; least of all the accounts left by Miller himself. He married Theresa Dyer 1862 in Oregon and had 3 children with her, they divorced in 1869. Fellow-writer Ambrose Bierce went so far as to call him “the greatest liar this country has ever produced.” Miller, for his part, insisted that he never lied about anything: he just exaggerated the truth a bit. What is beyond dispute is that Miller was an ardent conservationist and a poet of sorts. He died while living in Oakland, CA, in 1913, where his home/cabin has been preserved for tourists.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Not in Vain

- Emily Dickinson (830-1886) If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sonnet on Tight Lacing To American Mothers.

If ye would crash the tree, Before one flower hath made

Its fragrance or its fruitage known; If ye would break the harp,

Before one tone hath told the compass of its varied power;

If ye would quench the lamp at twilight hour, Or plant the brier where the rose had grown, Or crush the statue in the encasing stone –

Then make the “Corset Curse’ your daughters dower!

But oh, if ye revere your God’s impression stamp’d on the human form;

If ye would arm your sons against Consumption’s ghastly charm;

Banish this vice of every Christian nation! Published in the Millennial Star * * * * * * * * * * * *

God Bless America God Bless America; land that I love, from the Mountains to the valleys to

the ocean. * * * * * * * * * *

Blessed is the People “Blessed is the nation whose God is the Lord, the people he chose for his

inheritance.” (2 Chronicles 31:8 - KJV); “Happy is that people, that is in such a case: yea, happy is that people, whose God is the Lord.” (Psalm 144:15 - KJV) “Blessed are the people whose God is the Lord!” (Psalm 144:15 IV)

* * * * * * * * * School Creed

This is our school, Let peace dwell here. Let the rooms be full of contentment,

Let love abide here – Love of learning, love of one another,

Love of mankind, love of life itself, and love of God. Let us remember that as many hands build a house,

So many hearts make a school. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Builders

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

All are architects of Fate, working in these walls of Time;

Some with massive deeds and great, some with ornaments of rhyme.

Nothing useless is, or low; each thing in its place is best;

And what seems but idle show s trengthens and supports the rest.

For the structure that we raise,

time is with materials filled; Our to-days and yesterdays

are the blocks with which we build. Truly shape and fashion these; leave no yawning gaps between;

Think not, because no man sees, such things will remain unseen.

In the elder days of art, builders wrought with greatest care Each minute and unseen part; for the Gods see everywhere.

Let us do our work as well, both the unseen and the seen; Make the house, where Gods may dwell, beautiful, entire, and clean.

Else our lives are incomplete, standing in these walls of time,

Broken stairways, where the feet stumble as they seek to climb. Build to-day, then, strong and sure, with a firm and ample base;

And ascending and secure shall to-morrow find its place. Thus alone can we attain to those turrets, where the eye

Sees the world as one vast plain, and one boundless reach of sky. * * * * * * * * * * *

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) was an American poet and educator whose works include ‘Paul Revere’s Ride’, ‘Song of Hiawatha’ , ‘Evangeline’, and the translation of ‘The Divine Comedy’. Longfellow was born in Portland, Maine, then part of Massachusetts, he studied at Bowdoin College, after a time he became a professor at Bowdoin, and later at Harvard College. He wrote several poetry collections during his tenure. He retired from teaching in 1854 to focus on his writing. His first wife Mary Potter died in 1835 after a miscarriage. His second wife, Frances Appleton, died in 1861 after her dress caught fire. After her death, Henry had a hard time writing poetry. He died in 1882. He is well known for his lyric poems which often present mythology and legend. He became the most popular American poet of his day and also had success overseas. He has been criticized for imitating European styles and writing specifically for the masses.


–H. Jackson Brown, Jr. “Hold your child’s hand every chance you get.

The time will come all too soon when he or she won’t let you.” “Watch your attitude. It’s the first thing people notice about you.”

“Never betray a confidence.” “Trust in God, but lock your car.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Abraham Lincoln Biography

Being born on a farm in rural Hardin, Kentucky didn’t inhibit Abraham Lincoln. Working on his father’s farm and digesting all the literature he could in his spare time, Lincoln’s self-taught education was probably better than anything he would have received at school. And, being born to parents who thought the slave trade despicable, Lincoln’s hard path to abolish slavery in the entire country led him to become the most impressive, well remembered, and perhaps greatest president of the United States of America. He married Mary Todd in 1842, and they had four sons: Robert, Edward, William and Thomas.

Lincoln had to work twice as hard as someone from a wealthy or well-connected family to attain his post as a lawyer in Illinois, and later as a congressman for the state. Without a formal education behind him, his oratory skills and debates won him national recognition. In his debate with Stephen Douglas in 1858, he won the backing of the Republican Party and a nomination for president. With a drive that knew no limit, he began his crusade to become the first Republican President of the United States.

When a group of Southern States seceded from the Union States to create The Confederate States of America, Lincoln in his Inaugural Address states, “In your

hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not in mine, is the momentous issue of civil war. The government will not assail you.”

With a country on the brink of civil war, Lincoln, with great care and planning, was able to keep the Union States staunchly cemented in their cause, where he called for nearly 100,000 soldiers to fight for the preservation of their country. The Confederate’s attack on Fort Sumter was the final straw that led the United States to war.

In 1863, Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation and the 13th Amendment to the Constitution of the United States that declared all slaves free men. With the end of the civil war in 1864, Lincoln was re-elected president for a second term. His southern re-building efforts, to this day, have gone down in history as amazingly generous, allowing time to heal, and encouraging southerners to move ahead with the all the great prosperity and liberties they had enjoyed before.

During Abraham’s terms in office, he set up the Department of Agriculture, the income tax, started the transcontinental railroad, and set up a model that influenced the operation of all State-run universities. With a continued fervor of re-building the United States, Lincoln continued his second term in office. However, upon a visit to the Ford’s Theater in Washington, D.C., John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln at point-blank range. Booth escaped, but 12 days later was hunted down by federal agents and shot. After nine hours in a coma, Abraham Lincoln passed into history as the savior of the United States and ultimately as the “Great Emancipator” of slavery. (from: http://www.biographyshelf.com/abraham_lincoln_biography.html)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Hiawatha’s Childhood

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow; from Hiawatha, a poem of 22 Chapters, this is Chapter 3, Hiawatha’s Childhood, some verses are missing.

Downward through the evening twilight,

in the days that are forgotten, In the unremembered ages, from the full moon fell Nokomis,

Fell the beautiful Nokomis, she a wife, but not a mother.

She was sporting with her women, swinging in a swing of grape-vines,

When her rival the rejected, full of jealousy and hatred, Cut the leafy swing asunder,

cut in twain the twisted grape-vines, And Nokomis fell affrighted downward

through the evening twilight,

On the Muskoday, the meadow, on the prairie full of blossoms. "See! a star falls!" said the people; from the sky a star is falling!"

And the West-Wind came at evening, walking lightly o'er the prairie, Whispering to the leaves and blossoms, bending low the flowers and grasses,

Found the beautiful Wenonah, lying there among the lilies, Wooed her with his words of sweetness, wooed her with his soft caresses,

Till she bore a son in sorrow, bore a son of love and sorrow. Thus was born my Hiawatha, thus was born the child of wonder;

But the daughter of Nokomis, Hiawatha's gentle mother, In her anguish died deserted by the West-Wind, false and faithless,

By the heartless Mudjekeewis. for her daughter long and loudly Wailed and wept the sad Nokomis; "O that I were dead!"

she murmured, "O that I were dead, as thou art! No more work, and no more weeping, Wahonowin! Wahonowin!"

By the shores of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water,

Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis. Dark behind it rose the forest, rose the black and gloomy pine-trees, Rose the firs with cones upon them; bright before it beat the water,

Beat the clear and sunny water, beat the shining Big-Sea-Water. There the wrinkled old Nokomis nursed the little Hiawatha,

Rocked him in his linden cradle, bedded soft in moss and rushes, Safely bound with reindeer sinews; stilled his fretful wail by saying,

"Hush! the Naked Bear will hear thee!" lulled him into slumber, singing,

"Ewa-yea! my little owlet! Who is this, that lights the wigwam? With his great eyes lights the wigwam? Ewa-yea! my little owlet!"

Many things Nokomis taught him of the stars that shine in heaven; Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet, Ishkoodah, with fiery tresses;

Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits, warriors with their plumes and war-clubs, Flaring far away to northward in the frosty nights of Winter; Showed

the broad white road in heaven, pathway of the ghosts, the shadows, Running straight across the heavens, crowded with the ghosts, the shadows.

(Page 1 of 3)


Hiawatha’s Childhood page 2

At the door on summer evenings sat the little Hiawatha;

Heard the whispering of the pine-trees, heard the lapping of the waters, Sounds of music, words of wonder;

'Minne-wawa!" said the Pine-trees, Mudway-aushka!" said the water. Saw the fire-fly, Wah-wah-taysee, flitting through the dusk of evening, With the twinkle of its candle lighting up the brakes and bushes, And

he sang the song of children, sang the song Nokomis taught him: "Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly, little, flitting, white-fire insect, Little,

dancing, white-fire creature, light me with your little candle, Ere upon my bed I lay me, ere in sleep I close my eyelids!"

Saw the moon rise from the water rippling, rounding from the water, Saw the

flecks and shadows on it, whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?" And the good Nokomis answered: "Once a warrior, very angry,

Seized his grandmother, and threw her up into the sky at midnight; Right against the moon he threw her; 'tis her body that you see there."

Saw the rainbow in the heaven, in the eastern sky, the rainbow, Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?" and the good Nokomis answered:

"'tis the heaven of flowers you see there; all the wild-flowers of the forest, All the lilies of the prairie, when on earth they fade and perish,

Blossom in that heaven above us." When he heard the owls at midnight, hooting, laughing in the forest, 'What is that?" he cried in terror, "What is that,"

he said, "Nokomis?"

And the good Nokomis answered: "That is but the owl and owlet, Talking in their native language, talking, scolding at each other." then the little Hiawatha learned of every bird

its language, Learned their names and all their secrets, how they built their nests in Summer,

Where they hid themselves in Winter, talked with them whene'er he met them, called them "Hiawatha's Chickens." Of all beasts he learned the language, learned their names

and all their secrets, how the beavers built their lodges, where the squirrels hid their acorns,

How the reindeer ran so swiftly, why the rabbit was so timid, talked with them whene'er he met them, called them

"Hiawatha's Brothers."

Then Iagoo, the great boaster, he the marvelous story-teller, He the traveler and the talker, he the friend of old Nokomis, Made a bow for Hiawatha; from a branch of ash he made it, from an oak-bough made the arrows, tipped with flint, and winged with feathers, and the cord he made of deer-skin. Then he said to Hiawatha: "Go, my son, into the forest, where the red deer herd together, kill for us a famous roebuck,

Kill for us a deer with antlers!" Forth into the forest straightway all alone walked Hiawatha Proudly, with his bow and arrows; And the birds sang round him, o'er him, "Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!" Sang the robin, the Opechee, Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa, "Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!" Up the oak-

tree, close beside him, Sprang the squirrel, Adjidaumo, In and out among the branches, Coughed and chattered from the oak-tree,

Laughed, and said between his laughing, "Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!" (Page 2 of 3)


Hiawatha’s Childhood page 3

And the rabbit from his pathway leaped aside, and at a distance Sat erect upon his haunches, Half in fear and half in frolic,

Saying to the little hunter, "Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!" But he heeded not, nor heard them, for his thoughts were with the red deer; On their tracks his eyes were fastened, leading downward to

the river, To the ford across the river, and as one in slumber walked he. Hidden in the alder-bushes, there he waited till the deer came, Till he saw two antlers lifted, saw two eyes look from the thicket,

Saw two nostrils point to windward, and a deer came down the pathway, Flecked with leafy light and shadow, and his heart within him fluttered,

trembled like the leaves above him, like the birch-leaf palpitated, As the deer came down the pathway. Then, upon one knee uprising,

Hiawatha aimed an arrow; Scarce a twig moved with his motion, scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled,

But the wary roebuck started, stamped with all his hoofs together, Listened with one foot uplifted, leaped as if to meet the arrow;

Ah! the singing, fatal arrow, like a wasp it buzzed and stung him! Dead he lay there in the forest, by the ford across the river;

Beat his timid heart no longer, but the heart of Hiawatha Throbbed and shouted and exulted, as he bore the red deer homeward,

And Iagoo and Nokomis hailed his coming with applauses. From the red deer's hide Nokomis made a cloak for Hiawatha, From the red deer's flesh Nokomis made a banquet to his honor. All the village came and feasted, all the guests praised Hiawatha, Called him Strong-Heart, Soan-ge-taha! called him Loon-Heart,

Mahn-go-taysee!

(Page 3 of 3) * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Cooks -Edward Bulwer-Lytton (1831-1891)

“We may live without poetry, music and art; We may live without conscience, and live without heart; We may live without friends; we may live without books;

But civilized man cannot live without cooks!” * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Teacher’s True Aim - Frederick William Robertson

The true aim of everyone who aspires to be a teacher should be, not to impart his own opinions, but to kindle minds. Scratch the green rind of a sapling or wantonly twist it in the soil,

and a scarred or croaked oak will tell of the act for centuries to come, So it is with the teachings of youth, which makes impressions on the

mind and heart that are to last forever, the highest function of the teacher consists not so much in imparting knowledge as in stimulating the pupil in its love and pursuit. To know how to suggest is the act of

teaching. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Practical Advice –H. Jackson Brown, Jr. “Never ignore evil.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * A Teacher’s Influence

It was a good many years ago when a teacher came to a village school in the state of Indiana. That school was quite run down. It had a reputation of getting rid of teachers. The school was gang-ridden by a dozen or more rough boys. The first day the teacher discovered the leader of the gang drawing rude pictures on a slate. The teacher realized the crude caricature was of himself. The boy, bent over his slate, drawing between spasms of laughter, looking up at the teacher, then around the room, and back at the slate, was attracting the attention of the whole school.

When school was out for the day, this boy was requested to remain. He was the gang leader, and his partners in mischief gathered around the building; waiting to see what would happen between him, and the new teacher. He had insulted the teacher the first day, and surely something drastic would be done. However, they were disappointed when after a few minutes he emerged from the building, smiling and with a new book in his hand, and made straight for home. This boy had never thought enough about books to carry one home. But something had really happened to that boy. He had met a truly great teacher. The teacher had said to him: “James, I see that you have in you the making of a great artist or painter, or maybe a poet. You have something every boy doesn’t have. Here’s a book, take it home, read it, then draw for me the characters in the book as you see them.” That was all. The boy was waiting for the teacher the next morning. Did you read any of the book?, asked the teacher. ‘Any of it?’ the boy responded, ‘I read all of it. Here’s your drawing, too.’ That teacher had done something to that boy- who was James Whitcomb Riley – and this experience, was the turning point in his life. It was the influence of this one teacher that swayed the genius who, all the neighbors said ‘would surely come to some bad end.’

The years went by, and Riley had become famous and greatly loved all over the land. He was living in Indianapolis; each day going to his office on an upper floor of a hotel in an elevator. The elevator body said to him one day, “Mr. Riley, I understand you write poetry.” “Well, yes, I suppose that I try.” “I, too, write poetry sometimes.” answered the obscure boy. “Guess its no good, but I like to write it; my mother reads it, and then I burn it.” “Bring your next poem to me,” replied Riley, as he stepped out of the elevator. The boy was elated that ‘the great Riley’ had noticed him.

Within a few days the boy was knocking at Riley’s door. He showed Mr. Riley some poems he had written. Trembling and too frightened to say anything, he thrust them at the poet and tried to get out, but Mr. Riley closed the door and kept him in. He remained with that boy a whole hour. The boy was Paul Laurence Dunbar, and Riley’s influence that day lifted that boy out of an elevator into the big world where he could be heard, and in turn influence thousands of other lives. A teacher of good influence becomes eternal in the lives of his students. Could anyone wish a greater reward?

- W.G. Montgomery * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Toys - Coventry Patmore (1823-1896)

My little son, who looked from thoughtful eyes, And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise,

Having my law the seventh time disobey'd, I struck him, and dismiss'd with hard words and unkiss'd, —

His Mother, who was patient, being dead. Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep,

I visited his bed, but found him slumbering deep, With darken'd eyelids, and their lashes yet

From his late sobbing wet. And I, with moan, kissing away his tears,

left others of my own;

For, on a table drawn beside his head, He had put, within his reach, A box of counters and a red-vein'd stone,

A piece of glass abraded by the beach, And six or seven shells, A bottle with bluebells, And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art, To comfort his sad heart. So when that night I pray'd To God, I wept, and said:

Ah, when at last we lie with trancèd breath, not vexing Thee in death, And Thou rememberest of what toys we made our joys,

How weakly understood thy great commanded good, Then, fatherly not less than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay, Thou'lt leave Thy wrath, and say, 'I will be sorry for their childishness.'

* * * * * * * * * * * Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore (1823-1896) was an English poet and critic best known for The Angel in the House, his poem about an ideal happy marriage. The eldest son of author Peter Patmore, Coventry was born at Woodford in Essex, England. He was privately educated. He was his father’s constant, lively companion and inherited from him his early literary enthusiasm. In 1838 he earned the sliver palette of the Society of Arts, and afterwards went to France to study where he began to write poems. After returning from France, he became interested in science, and set his poetry aside for a time. He returned to literary interests after Alfred Lord Tennyson rose to success, and published a small volume of Poems in 1844, but received a poor received a poor review from Blackwood’s Magazine, and distressed at its poor reception bought up the remainder of the edition and destroyed it. In 1847 he married Emily Camberwell, and worked at the

British Museum, where he wrote several important documents. In 1854 he wrote Angel in the House. In 1862 he lost his wife, and suffered a long and lingering illness. In 1865 he married again to Marianne Byles, and later purchased an estate in East Grinstead, whereafter he began writing several books, poems and papers and was published. His second wife died in 1880, and afterwards he married Harriet Robson. In later years he lived at Lymington, where he did, and was buried in Lymington churchyard. A collection of his poems was published in two volumes in 1886. His best work is found in the volumes of odes called The Unknown Eros, in which is poetry of the most dignified and rich melody. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Educated

- Socrates “Whom, then, do I call educated? First, those who manage well the circumstances which they encounter day by day; and those who can judge situations appropriately as they arise and rarely miss the suitable course of action. Next, those who are honorable in their dealings with all men, bearing easily what is unpleasant or offensive in others, and being as reasonable with their associates as is humanly possible. Furthermore, those who hold their pleasures always under control and are not unduly overcome by their misfortunes, bearing up under them bravely and in a manner worthy of our common nature. Most important of all, those who are not spoiled by their successes, who do not desert their true selves, but hold their ground steadfastly as wise and sober-minded men, rejoicing no more in the good things that have come to them through chance than in those which through their own nature and intelligence are theirs since birth. Those who have a character which is in accord, not with one of these things, but with all of them these are educated--possessed of all the virtues.

Educated persons are those who can choose wisely and courageously under any circumstances. If they have the ability to choose between wisdom and foolishness, between good and bad, between virtuousness and vulgarities, regardless of the academic degrees they have, then they are educated. To conclude educated ate those who are not spoiled by their successes, who do not desert their true selves, but hold their ground steadfastly as wise and sober-minded men, rejoicing no more in the good things that have come to them through chance than in those which through their own nature and intelligence are theirs since birth.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Opportunity

- Edward Rowland Sill (1841-1887) This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:-

There spread a cloud of dust along a plain; And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged

A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.

A craven hung along the battle's edge, And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel-

That blue blade that the king's son bears,-but this Blunt thing-!" he snapped and flung it from his hand,

And lowering crept away and left the field. Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead,

And weaponless, and saw the broken sword, Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,

And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down, And saved a great cause that heroic day.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Polonius’s Advice to Laertes - William Shakespeare

A father's advice to his son how to conduct himself in the world: Don't tell all you think, or put into action thoughts out of harmony or proportion with the occasion. Be friendly, but not common; don't dull your

palm by effusively shaking hands with every chance newcomer. Avoid quarrels if you can, but if they are forced on you, give a good account of yourself. Hear every man's censure (opinion), but express your own

ideas to few. Dress well, but not ostentatiously. Neither borrow nor lend. And guarantee yourself against being false to others by setting up the high moral principle of

being true to yourself.

Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportioned thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar;

The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade.

Beware of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, Beware that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice;

Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,

But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy;

For the apparel oft proclaims the man. Neither a borrower, nor a lender be;

For loan oft loses both itself and friend, And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I Never Knew A Night So Black

- John Kendrick Bangs I never knew a night so black,

light failed to follow on its tracks, I never knew a storm so gray

it failed to have its clearing day, I never knew such bleak despair

that there was not a rift, somewhere. I never knew an hour so drear

love could not fill it full of cheer! * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Teacher - George Herbert

Teach me, my God and King, in all things thee to see,

and what I do in anything to do it as for thee. A man that looks on glass, on it may stay his eye;

or if he pleaseth, through it pass, and then the heaven espy.

All may of thee partake; nothing can be so mean, which with this tincture, "for thy sake,"

will not grow bright and clean. A servant with this clause makes drudgery divine:

who sweeps a room, as for thy laws, makes that and the action fine.

This is the famous stone that turneth all to gold; for that which God doth touch and

own cannot for less be told. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Tight Place - Harriet Beecher Stowe

When you get into a tight place, and everything goes against you,

‘Till it seems as if you can’t hold on a minute longer, Never give up then, for that’s just the place

and time that the tide will turn. * * * * * * * * * * *

At Peace With God - Napoleon Hill

You cannot scare a man who is at peace with God, his fellowmen, and himself.

There is no room for fear in such a man’s heart. When fear finds a welcome,

there is something needs awakening. * * * * * * * * * * * *

True Heroism - unknown

The lives of truest heroism are those in which there is no great deeds to look back upon.

It is the little things well done that go to make up a successful story and truly good life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Win Hearts

-Buleigh “Win hearts and you have all men’s hands and purses.”


–H. Jackson Brown, Jr. “Get involved at your child’s school.”

“Do all you can to increase the salaries of good teachers.” * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Holiday Poems

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Mouse and the Cake

A mouse found a beautiful piece of plum cake;

The richest and sweetest that mortal could make.

‘There’s a noise’, cried the mouse, ‘’tis my brothers at play;

So I’ll hide with the cake, lest they wander this way.

He nibbled, and nibbled, and panted, but still He kept gulping it down till he made himself ill.

Yet he swallowed it all, and ‘til easy to guess, He was soon so unwell that he groaned with distress.

His family heard him, and as he grew worse,

They sent for the doctor, who made him rehearse How he’s eaten the cake to the very last crumb, Without giving his playmates and relatives some.

‘Ah me!’ cried the doctor, ‘advice is too late;

You must die before long, so prepare for your fate. If you had but divided the cake with your brothers,

‘Twould have done you no harm, and been good for the others.

- Eliza Cook * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


“Go home for the Holidays.” “Remember the ones who love you.”

“Root for the home team.” “Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.”

“Remember that almost everything looks better after a good night’s sleep.” “Everybody deserves a birthday cake. Never celebrate a birthday without one.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Ode To the Fourth of July

- Eliza R. Snow Shall we commemorate the day

whose genial influence has pass’d o’er? Shall we our hearts best tribute pay,

where heart and feeling are no more? Shall we commemorate the day

with freedom’s ensigns waving high, Whose blood stain’d banner’s furl’d away –

whose rights and freedom have gone by.

Should we, when gasping ‘neath its wave, extol the beauties of the sea?

Or, lash’d upon fair freedom’s grave, proclaim the strength of liberty? It is heart-rendering mockery!

I’d sooner laugh ‘midst writhing pain, Then chant the songs of liberty

beneath oppression’s galling chain!

Columbia’s glory is a theme that with our life’s warms pulses grew,

But ah! ‘tis fled – and, like a dream, it’s ghost is flutt’ring in our view!

Her dying groans-her fun’ral knell we’ve heard, for oh! We’ve had to fly!

And now, alas! We know too well, the days of freedom have gone by.

Protection faints, and justice cow’rs –

redress is slumb’ring on the heath; And ‘tis in vain to lavish flow’rs upon

our country’s fading wreath! Better implore his aid divine,

whose Arm can make his people free; Then decorate the hollowed shrine

of our departed liberty!

Published in the Millennial Star (1842), Volumes 2-4 pg. 16 with this note from the Editor, “The following beautiful lines were composed by Miss Eliza R. Snow, of Nauvoo, Illinois, on the 4th of July last, it being the anniversary of

American Independence. The heart which can read them without a deep sensation must be void of sentiment and feeling.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Practical Advice

–H. Jackson Brown, Jr. “Don’t let weeds grow around your dreams.”

“Get to garage sales early. The good stuff is usually gone by 8:00 a.m.” “Use a favorite picture of a love one as a bookmark.”

“When declaring your rights, don’t forget your responsibilities.” ‘Be your children’s best teacher, and coach.”

“Apologize immediately when you lose your temper, especially to children.” “Remember that how you say something is as important as what you say.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Over the River and Through the Woods

- Lydia Maria Child (1802- )

Over the river and thru the wood, To grandfather's house we go;

The horse knows the way To carry the sleigh,

Thru the white and drifted snow, oh! Over the river and thru the wood,

Oh, how the wind does blow! It stings the toes,

And bites the nose, As over the ground we go.

Over the river and thru the wood,

To have a first-rate play; Oh, hear the bell ring,

"Ting-a-ling-ling!" Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day-ay! Over the river and thru the wood,

Trot fast my dapple gray! Spring over the ground, Like a hunting hound!

For this is Thanksgiving Day. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

This was a Thanksgiving song written by Lydia Maria Child, appearing originally in her book Flowers for Children, Vol. 2. in 1844, with a title as ‘A Boy’s Thanksgiving Day’, it celebrates memories of visiting her grandfather’s home. The poem has been recited and sung during Christmas changing the words ‘hurrah for Thanksgiving day’ to be ‘hurrah for Christmas Day!’. Lydia Maria Child was a novelist, journalist, teacher, and author who wrote extensively about the need to eliminate slavery. Born in Medford, MA in 1802, Lydia was the youngest of six children. Her father was a famous baker, and her mother died when she was twelve. She disliked the name Lydia, and preferred the name Maria instead. Born into America’s middle class, she was educated at home, then went to a local ‘dame school’ and later to a nearby women’s ‘seminary’. After that she lived with an older married sister for several years, and then a brother who was six years older and his wife at his parish. Inspired by a conversation with this brother she

took on the challenge of writing about early American life, finishing the book, called Hobomok in only six weeks. The novel is valued today for its attempt to realistically portray early American life, with its then radical belief of a Native American hero as a noble man in love with a white woman. The publication of her book in 1824 helped bring her into New England and Boston literary circles. She then began to run a private school in Watertown where her brother had his parish. In 1825 she published her second novel, The Rebels, or Boston before the Revolution. This historical novel achieved new success for her, and quotations have been since used in speeches and as part of 19th century history books. She founded a bimonthly magazine for children in 1826, Juvenile Miscellany. At this point she became engaged to Harvard graduate and lawyer, David Lee Child, who was 8 years her elder. They knew each other for four years before marrying. Together they fought for Indian rights and later for the rights of slavery, publishing articles strongly attacking presidential position and actions against them in their Massachusetts Journal. She published several books, some of which were very controversial at the time, and which brought the wrath of certain groups upon them. She died in 1880 at Wayland, Mass. at the farm she had shared with her husband David since 1852.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * The Lost Turkey

Turkey lay there on the table Turkey big and brown

But when we went to cook him.... He was nowhere to be found.

We looked all through the kitchen And searched the pantry well.

We asked Jim and John about it... and even Annabelle. And even little Mary

and she said "Tourse I do. Poor turkey didn't feel so good

Because he lost his head, So I put my jammies on him And tucked him in my bed!

(This poem was brought home from school by one of the children when they were small, around Thanksgiving.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Morning Thanksgiving

- John Drinkwater (1882-1937) Thank God for sleep in the long quiet night,

For the clear day calling through the little leaded panes, For the shining well water and the warm golden light,

And the paths washed white by singing rains. We thank Thee, O God, for exultation born

Of the kiss of the winds, for life among the leaves, For the whirring wings that pass, about the wonder of the morn

For the changing plumes of swallows gliding upwards to their eaves.

For the treasure of the garden, the gilly flowers of gold, The prouder petalled tulips, the primose full of spring,

For the crowded orchard boughs and the swelling buds that hold,

A yet unwoven wonder, to Thee our praise we bring. Thank God for good bread, for the honey in the comb

For the brown shelled eggs, for the clustered blossom set, Beyond the open window in a pink and cloudy foam,

For the laughing loves among the branches set.

Note: In the highlands of Scotland, a “gillie” is a sportsman’s attendant or servant. During a shooting outing, for example, the gillie would reload the guns and carry the game. A gilly flower referred to any clove scented

bloom such as a clove pink that we now call a dianthus, or a wallflower or scented stock. Since the poem just read mentions “gilly flowers of gold” it is likely that Drinkwater, the poet here, was referring to the European

wallflower that has spikes of yellow blooms with brown markings. Wallflowers are still frequently seen in English gardens even today, though they are rarely grown in America.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Wallflower


* * * * * * * * * * * * Grace and Thanksgiving

- Elizabeth Gould We thank Thee, Lord, for quiet upland lawns,

For misty loveliness of autumn dawns, For gold and russet of the ripened fruit, For yet another year’s fulfilment, Lord,

We thank Thee now. For joy of glowing colour, flash of wings,

We thank Thee, Lord; for all the little things That make the love and laughter of our days,

For home and happiness and friends, we praise And thank Thee now.

* * * * * * * * * * Thanksgiving

- Robert Louis Stevenson Lord, behold our family here assembled

We thank you for this place in which we dwell, for the love that unites us,

for the peace accorded to us this day, for the hope with which we expect the morrow;

for the health, the work, the food and the bright skies that make our lives delightful;

for our friends in all parts of the earth... Give us courage, gaiety, and the quiet mind.

Spear to us our friends, soften us to our enemies.

Bless us, if it may be, in all our innocent endeavors. If it may not, give us to strength to encounter that which is to come,

That we be brave in peril, constant in tribulation, temperate in wrath,

And in all changes of fortune, loyal and loving one to another...”

* * * * * * * * * *

Everyday Memories -Richard Armour

When Father carved our holiday bird and asked us each what we preferred,

As sure as summer follows spring came Mother’s, ‘Please, I’ll take the wing.”

We children never wondered why she did not sometimes take a thigh, Or choose a drumstick or a breast.

We thought she like a wing the best. She said it with such easy voice,

it seemed so certainly her choice... I was a man before I knew why mothers

do the things they do. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * *

Little Jesus - Francis Thompson

Little Jesus, wast Thou shy Once, and just so small as I? And what did it feel like to be

Out of heaven, and just like me? Didst Thou sometimes think of there,

And ask where all the angels were I should think that I would cry For my house all made of sky;

I would look about the air, And wonder where my angels were; And at waking ‘twould distress me

– Not an angel there to dress me.

Hadst Thou ever any toys, Like us little girls and boys?

And didst Thou play in heaven with all The angels, that were not too tall,

With stars for marbles? Did the things Play ‘Can you See Me ? ‘ through their wings.

Didst Thou kneel at night to pray, And didst Thou join Thy hands, this way? And did they tire sometimes, being young,

And make the prayer seem very long? And dost Thou like it best, that we

Should join our hands to pray to Thee?

I used to think, before I knew, The prayer not said unless we do. And did Thy Mother at the night

Kiss Thee, and fold the clothes in right? And didst Thou feel quite good in bed,

Kissed, and sweet, and Thy prayers said? Thou canst not have forgotten all

That it feels like to be small; And Thou know’st I cannot pray

To Thee in my father’s way- - When Thou wast so little, say,

Couldst Thou talk Thy Father’s way?

So, a little Child, come down And hear a child’s tongue like Thy own;

Take me by the hand and walk, And listen to my baby talk.

(He will look, thou art so fair) And say: O Father, I thy son,

Bring the Prayer of a little one; And He will smile, the Children’s Tongue Hast not changed since Thou wast young.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Friendly Beasts

(Usually given as "Traditional English" but see notes following) Music: Orientis Partibus

Jesus our brother, kind and good Was humbly born in a stable rude

And the friendly beasts around Him stood, Jesus our brother, kind and good.

"I," said the donkey, shaggy and brown, "I carried His mother up hill and down; I carried her safely to Bethlehem town." "I," said the donkey, shaggy and brown.

"I," said the cow all white and red

"I gave Him my manger for His bed; I gave him my hay to pillow his head."

"I," said the cow all white and red. "I," said the sheep with curly horn,

"I gave Him my wool for His blanket warm; He wore my coat on Christmas morn."

"I," said the sheep with curly horn.

"I," said the dove from the rafters high, "I cooed Him to sleep so He would not cry;

We cooed him to sleep, my mate and I." "I," said the dove from the rafters high.

Thus every beast by some good spell,

In the stable dark was glad to tell Of the gift he gave Immanuel, The gift he gave Immanuel.

"I," was glad to tell

Of the gift he gave Immanuel, The gift he gave Immanuel.

Jesus our brother, kind and good. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Notes: This song originally hails from a 12th century Latin song "Orientis Partibus" which first appeared in France and is usually attributed to Pierre de Corbeil, Bishop of Sens (d 1222) ("Office de la circoncision," "Lew manuscrit de l’office de la Circoncision de Notre-Dame-du-Puy," or "L’Office de Pierre de Corbeil,"

circa 1210). The Feast of the Circumci-sion is celebrated on January 1. The song is associated with the Feast of Fools. The tune is said to have been part of the Fete de l’Ane (The Donkey’s Festival), which

celebrated the flight of the Holy Family into Egypt and was a regular Christmas observance in Beauvais and Sens, France in the 13th century. During the mass, it was common for a donkey to be led or ridden into the

church. The words and tune were designed to give thanks for the ass on which Mary rode, and began: Orientis partibus Adventavit asinus (‘From the East the ass has come’). Each verse was sung, and finished

with the chorus ‘Hail, Sir donkey, hail’. It was a solemn affair, but the tune became very popular in 17th and 18th century Germany. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * ‘Twas the Night Before Jesus Came

- Unknown ‘Twas the night before Jesus came and all through the house,

Not a creature was praying, not one in the house. Their Bibles were lain on the shelf without care,

in hopes that Jesus would not come there. The children were dressing to crawl into bed,

Not once ever kneeling or bowing a head. And mom in her rocker and baby on her lap

Was watching the Late Show while I took a nap. When out of the East there arose such a clatter, I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter.

Away to the Window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash!

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But angels proclaiming that Jesus was here. With a light like the sun sending forth a bright ray,

I knew in a moment this must be The Day! The light of His face made me cover my head.

It was Jesus! returning just like He'd said. And though I possessed worldly wisdom and wealth,

I cried when I saw Him in spite of myself.

In the Book of Life which He held in His hand, Was written the name of every saved man.

He spoke not a word as He searched for my name' When He said, "It's not here" my head hung in shame. The people whose name had been written with love,

He gathered to take to His Father above. With those who were ready He rose without a sound,

While all the rest were left standing around. I fell to my knees, but it was too late;

I had waited too long and thus sealed my fate. I stood and I cried as they rose out of sight;

Oh, if only I had been ready tonight. In the words of this poem the meaning is clear, The coming of Jesus is drawing ever so near.

There's only one life and when comes the last call, We'll find that the Bible was true after all!

(Revelation 21:27 ) * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * How Far Is It To Bethlehem?

- by Wicks, Allan and Canterbury Cathedral Choir, Children’s Song

How far is it to Bethlehem? Not very far. Shall we find the stable room lit by a star? Can we see the little Child? Is He within? I if we lift the wooden latch, may we go in?

May we stroke the creatures there, ox, ass or sheep? May we peep like them and see Jesus asleep?

If we touch His tiny hand, will He awake? Will he known we’ve come so far just for his sake? Great kings have precious gifts, and we have naught

Little smiles and little tears are all we brought For all weary children, Mary must weep

Here, on His bed of straw, sleep, children, sleep. God, in His mother’s arms, babe in the byre

Sleep, as they sleep who find, their heart’s desire. * * * * * * * * * * *

Cradle Song At Bethlehem - E.J. Falconer, 1994

Oh! Hush thee, Oh! Hush thee, my baby so small, The ass hath her crib and the ox hath his stall,

The shelter thee, baby, from heaven above, Oh! Hush thee, oh! Hush thee, my baby my love. Oh! Hush Thee, Oh hush Thee, my baby so small,

Dim is the light from the lamp on the wall, Bright in the night sky shineth a star,

Leading the Kings who come from afar. Oh! Hush Thee! Oh hush Thee, my baby so small,

Joseph is spreading the straw in the stall, Soon wilt thou sleep in the nook of my arm, Safe from all trouble and danger and harm.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Christmas Poem - G.K. Chesteron

The Christ-child lay on Mary’s lap, His hair was like a light,

(O weary, weary was the world, But here is all aright.).

The Christ-child lay on Mary’s breast His hair was like a star.

(O stern and cunning are the kings, But here the true hearts are.)

The Christ-child lay on Mary’s heart, His hair was like a fire.

(O weary, weary is the world, But here the world’s desire.)

The Christ-child stood on Mary’s knee, His hair was like a crown,

And all the flowers looked up at Him, And all the stars looked down.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * *

Christ’s Birthday Song Winds through the olive trees, Softly did blow

'Round little Bethlehem, Long, long ago. Sheep on the hillside lay Whiter than snow,

Shepherds were watching them, Long, long ago. Then from the happy skies, Angels bent low,

Singing their songs of joy; Long, long ago, For in a manger bed, Cradled we know,

Christ came to Bethlehem, Long, long ago.

* * * * * * * * * * * The Christ Child

- Unknown He had no royal palace, only a stable bare,

He had no watchful servants, An ox and ass stood there,

But light shone forth from where He lay; The King of Love upon the hay!

* * * * * * * * * * * * Easter Praise - Rodney Bennett

Welcome, happy Easter day! Winter now is far away, Through the wide-world children sing

Praise to their Lord and King. through the woodlands, buds now doff their brown coats, and throwing off winter slumber, bush and tree wear an April livery. Now the wind more softly breathes, flowerets

cast their sober sheathes, and, to honor Easter Day, stew their petals on His way. Birds that yesterday were dumb find their voice newly

come, and from branches all day long pour their joyous Easter Song.

Though but little I can sing, I my Easter dong would bring. And for joy, as best I may, in my singing I would pray:

Gentle Jesus, King of Kings, yet the Lord of little things, Thought but small and young I be, from thy glory smile on me.

Keep it ever in my mind, to be kind, as thou wert king, So I may be trusted by small things not so strong as I.

Then shall birds and flowers bless my small hands for gentleness, And in one thing I shall be in my living more like thee.

Help me every hour to make something happier for thy sake, So through all the year I may make each day Thy Easter Day.

* * * * * * * * * *


Poems about Home

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mi Casa, Su Casa (My house is your house)

Music & Lyrics by All Hoffman & Dick Manning Mi casa, su casa, my house is your house,

welcome to my hacienda! Mi casa, su casa, my home is your home,

I’ll give you love warm and tender! My house is nothing more, than windows and a door,

and a roof that will keep out the rain! The day you say you’re mine, my humble house will shine,

just like a castle in Spain! Mi casa, su case, my house is your house,

lets plan the future together! Tell me, oh tell me, that your heart is my heart,

and I will love you forever! The day you say you’re mine, my humble house will shine,

just like a castle in Spain! Mi casa, su case, My house is your house,

lets plan the future together! Tell me, oh tell me, that your heart is my heart,

and I will love you forever! * * * * * * * * * * * *

Who Loves The Rain - Frances Wills Shaw

Who loves the rain – and loves his home, And looks on life with quiet eyes,

Him will I follow through the storm; And at his hearth – fire keeps me warm;

Nor hell nor heaven shall that soul Who loves the rain, and loves his home,

And looks on life with quiet eyes. * * * * * * * * * * *


Henry Van Dyke offering prayer in 1913 at the Easter Sunrise Services in Riverside, California.

* * * * * * * * * * * America For Me

- Henry Van Dyke (1852-1933)

'Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down Among the famous palaces and cities of renown,

To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of the kings,—

But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things.

So it's home again, and home again, America for me! My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be,

In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars, where the air is full of sunlight and the

flag is full of stars!

Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air; And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair;

And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome; But when it comes to living there is no place like home.

I like the German fir-woods, in green battalions drilled;

I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing fountains filled; But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and ramble for a day

In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her way!

I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack: The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back.

But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free,— We love our land for what she is and what she is to be.

Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me!

I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea, To the blessed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars,

Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars * * * * * * * * * * *

I shall grow old, but never loose life’s zest, because the road’s last turn will be the best. - Henry Van Dyke

* * * * * * * * * * Home

- June Brown Harris Home to me is laughter...

Kisses on my cheek when they’re least expected, Glances filled with gladness, the happiness in knowing,

I’m a portion of my family’s fulfillment. Home to me... is love! * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * I Vow To Thee My Country

- Sir Cecil Spring Rice I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,

Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love; The love that asks no question, the love that stands the test,

That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best; The love that never falters, the love that pays the price,

The love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice. I heard my country calling, away across the sea,

Across the waste of waters she calls and calls to me. Her sword is girded at her side, her helmet on her head,

And round her feet are lying the dying and the dead. I hear the noise of battle, the thunder of her guns, I haste to thee my mother, a son among thy sons.

And there's another country, I've heard of long ago, Most dear to them that love her,

most great to them that know; We may not count her armies, we may not see her King;

Her fortress is a faithful heart, her pride is suffering; And soul by soul and silently her shining bounds increase,

And her ways are ways of gentleness, and all her paths are peace.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Prayer For This House

- Lewis Untermeyer (1885-1997) May nothing evil cross this door,

And may ill fortune never pry About these windows; may the roar and rain go by.

Strengthened by faith, these rafters will Withstand the batt'ring of the storm;

This hearth, through all the world grow chill, Will keep us warm.

Peace shall walk softly through these rooms, Touching our lips with holy wine,

Till ev'ry casual corner blooms Into a shine. Laughter shall drown the raucous shout; And, though these shelt'ring wall are thin,

May they be strong to keep hate out And hold love in.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Where Love - Is Home

- Henery Van Dyke “But every house where love abides, and friendship is a guest, is surely

home, and home, sweet home, For there the heart can rest.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * A Prayer For a Little Home

- Florence Bone God send us a little home, to come back to, when we roam;

Low walls, and fluted tiles, wide windows, and a view for miles.

Red firelight and deep chairs, small white beds upstairs – Great talk in little nooks, dim colors, rows of books, One picture on each wall – not many things at all.

God send us a little ground, tall trees stand round – Homely flowers in brown sod, overhead, thy stars, O God.

God bless thee, when winds blow, Our home, and all we know.

* * * * * * * * * * * Prayer

- unknown May of us lose confidence in prayer because

we do not realize the answer, We ask for strength, and God

sends us difficulties which makes us strong. We pray for wisdom, and God sends us problems

the solution of which develops wisdom. We plead for prosperity, and God gives us

brain and brawn to work. We plead for courage and God gives us

dangers to overcome, We ask for favors and God gives us opportunities.

* * * * * * * * * * * Prayer

- unknown Pray often, pray sincerely, Have you ever knelt down to pray, and after addressing Deity, wondered if you had turned off the light,

wound up the clock, made a certain phone call? Well, stop right there because your mind is too cluttered with earthly things to

converse with God. Get up, check your light, make your phone calls, wind the clock, and then kneel again in humility, when ready; and have a heart-to-heart

talk with your Father in heaven. * * * * * * * * * *

Prayer of a Homemaker - Lydia O. Jackson

I thank you Father for a home to keep Where I, in simple unadorned attire, May satisfy the heart’s age-old desire

To daily bake and cleanse and dust and sweep. I thank You Father for the love I reap

In fields of duty where I often tire, But where, relaxed before contentment’s fire,

I yield at night to gentl arms of sleep. I thank You Father for Your presence here

In this, my home, my citadel on earth. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Dear Hearts and Gentle People

- performed by Bing Crosby, Jim Reeves

I love those dear hearts and gentle people Who live in my home town

Because those dear hearts and gentle people Will never ever let you down.

They read the good book From Fri till Monday

That's how the weekend goes I've got a dream house I'll build there one day

With picket fence and ramblin' rose I feel so welcome each time I return

That my happy heart keeps laughin' like a clown I love the dear hearts and gentle people

Who live and love in my home town There's a place I'd like to go And it's back in Idaho

Where you're friendly neighbors smile and say hello

It's a pleasure and a treat To meander down the street

That's why I want the whole wide world to know (I love those dear hearts)

I love the gentle people (Who live in my home town)

Because those dear hearts and gentle people Will never ever let you down

They read the good book from Fri till Monday That's how the weekend goes

I've got a dream house I'll build there one day With picket fence and ramblin' rose

I feel so welcome each time that I return That my happy heart keeps laughin' like a clown

I love the dear hearts and gentle people Who live and love in my home town

(Home, home, sweet home) (Home, home, sweet home) (Home, home, sweet home) (Home, home, sweet home)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Home

- by Edgar A. Guest

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home, A heap o' sun an' shadder, an' ye sometimes have t' roam

Afore ye really 'preciate the things ye lef' behind, An' hunger fer 'em somehow, with 'em allus on yer mind.

It don't make any differunce how rich ye get t' be, How much yer chairs an' tables cost, how great yer luxury;

I ain't home t' ye, though it be the palace of a king, Until somehow yer soul is sort o' wrapped round everything.

Home ain't a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;

Afore it's home there's got t' be a heap o' livin' in it; Within the walls there's got t' be some babies born, and then Right there ye've got t' bring 'em up t' women good, an' men;

And gradjerly, as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn't part With anything they ever used -- they've grown into yer heart:

The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore ye hoard;

an' if ye could ye'd keep the thumb marks on the door.

Ye've got t' weep t' make it home, ye've got t' sit an' sigh An' watch beside a loved one's bed,

an' know that Death is nigh; An' in the stillness o' the night t' see Death's angel come,

An' close the eyes o' her that smiled, an' leave her sweet voice dumb.

Fer these are scenes that grip the heart, an' when yer tears are dried,

Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an' sanctified; An' tuggin' at ye always are the pleasant memories

O' her that was an' is no more -- ye can't escape from these.

Ye've got t' sing an' dance fer years, ye've got t' romp an' play,

An' learn t' love the things ye have by usin' 'em each day; Even the roses 'round the porch must

blossom year by year Afore they 'come a part o' ye,

suggestin' someone dear Who used t' love 'em long ago,

an' trained 'em jes' t' run The way they do, so's they would

get the early mornin' sun; Ye've got t' love each brick an' stone

from cellar up t' dome:

It takes a heap o' livin' in a house t' make it home. From the book "A Heap o' Livin'" ©1916

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bless This House - Words & Music by Helen Taylor

and May H. Morgan, 1927 Bless this house, O Lord we pray, Make it safe by night and day . . .

Bless these walls so firm and stout, Keeping want and trouble out . . . Bless the roof and chimneys tall,

Let thy peace lie overall . . . Bless this door that it may prove, Ever open, To joy and love . . .

Bless these windows shining bright,

Letting in God's Heavenly light, Bless the hearth, the painting there, With smoke ascending like a prayer!

Bless the folk who dwell within, Keep them pure and free from sin . . .

Bless us all that we may be, Fit O Lord to dwell with thee . . . Bless us all that one day we may

dwell O Lord! With Thee! * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Stay At home - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest; Home-keeping hearts are happiest,

For those that wander they know not where, Are full of trouble and full of care;

To stay at home is best. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Letter To an Interior Decorator

- Betty Isler Dear Sir or Madam: Here’s our plight,

For walls and drapes, we chose Off-White, For carpeting a smart Clay-Beige,

When we moved in that was the rage. One we loved it; now we scoff:

The Off-White walls are mostly Off. The Beige has given way to Clay

From kiss of little feet all day. In fact, we will not mince our words, This color scheme is for the birds! Perhaps someone within your trade

Could grace our new all-purpose shade, With label modern, cut or pert. Until you do, we’ll call it Dirt.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * When a Man Turns Homeward

- Daniel Whitehead Hicky When a man turns homeward

through the moonfall, swift in his path like a meteor bright, Kindling his wonder and blinding his sight,

His feet will go on, his heartbeats will call deep in his breast like quick

music, and all the darkness that wirls like a flame of dead light cannot

fetter his feet turned homeward at night.

Past thicket and trees like a towering wall He will go on over hillside and stone, clinging like hope to the road that he knows; Groping along like a

shadow, alone. He will reach for the latch where a candle, gold eyed,

watches with her for the door that will close, leaving the world like a kitten

outside! * * * * * * * * * * * *

Old Houses - Homer D’Lettuso

There is comfort in old houses, Like a mother’s arm,

or a friend’s kind words, There is joy in time-scarred timbers,

In slated roofs and weathered boards. (I am one with an old house:

I am one with its pains and joys: An old house shared the travail of my

mother. An old house shared my baby toys.) Old houses have a blessed look, That is one with God’s great plan.

Old houses have a tenderness, From the baby’s crawl to the stride of a man.

(I am one with an old house, I am one with its kind embrace

An old house shared my mother’s love An old house knew my mother’s lovely face.)

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * *

Old Houses - Jennie Romano, 1939

I like old houses, with steps that sag, And worn picket fences running zig-zag

Like little children, playing tag. Happy old houses, with thresholds worn thin,

By young ones and old ones who walk out and in. I like old houses, that squat in the rain,

That have welcomed the years, and sheltered the pain Of knowing they wait for a loved one in vain.

Crazy old houses that bask in the sun,

Browned like a crusty, fl aky bun. I like old houses that patiently wait,

For a new friend’s hand on the creaky gate— Knowing that love is never too late.

Houses, sagacious—like prophets of old, Know so many things they never have told!

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


Poems for Individuals

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * You Are Unique By Pablo Casals

Each second we live is a new and Unique moment of the universe,

A moment that never was before and Will never will be again.

And what do we teach our children in school? We teach them that two and two make four,

And that Paris is the capital of France. When will we also teach them what they are?

You should say to each of them: Do you know what you are? You are unique.

In all the world there is no other child exactly like you. In the millions of years that have passed There has never been a child like you.

And look at your body, what a wonder it is! Your legs, your arms, your cunning fingers,

the way you move! You may be a Shakespeare, a Michelangelo, a Beethoven.

You have the capacity for anything. Yes, you are a marvel.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Kindness

- Elizabeth E.S. Williams Kindness that portrays a love that will endure,

Kindness that reveals a hope that’s strong and sure. Kindness that exchanges faith enough for today, Kindness that remembers a child along the way.

Kindness won my heart, such kindness born of love, Kindness that gave all and comes from God above.

And may I learn from Him, such kindness to impart, Strength and grace and faith, to another lonely heart.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Be Sweet & Kind

“In all things be sweet and kind, but never force the human mind.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Sunshine and Music

- Author unknown A laugh is just like sunshine

It freshens all the day, It tips the peak of life with light,

And drives the clouds away. The soul grows glad that hears it

And feels its courage strong. A laugh is just like sunshine

For cheering folks along.

A laugh is just like music. It lingers in the heart,

And where its melody is heard The ills of life depart;

And happy thoughts come crowding Its joyful notes to great;

A laugh is just like music For making living sweet. * * * * * * * * * * * *

That’s Success - Berton Braley

It’s doing your job the best you can and being just to your fellow-men;

It’s making money, but holding friends, and staying true to your aims and ends;

It’s figuring how and learning why, and looking forward and thinking high, And dreaming a little and doing much;

it’s keeping always in closest touch. With what is finest in word and deed; it’s being thorough, yet making speed; It’s daring blithely the field of chance

while making labor a brave romance;

It’s going onward despite defeat and fighting staunchly, but keeping sweet; It’s being clean and it’s playing fair;

It’s laughing lightly at Dame Despair; It’s looking up at the stars above,

and drinking deeply of life and love; It’s struggling on with the will to win, but taking loss with a cheerful grin;

It’s sharing sorrow, and work, and mirth, and making better this good old earth;

It’s serving, striving thru strain and stress, It’s doing your noblest – that is Success.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Look For the Best

Look for the best, prepare for the worst, and take what ever comes. – anon. * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Onward

- Virginia Stillman Keep the onward look,

keep your eyes over and always toward the horizon. When all about you there is confusion,

chaos, frustration barrier – All doors seem shut, and there is

no fulfillment to your need, No solvent to your problem.

You feel so utterly alone and lonely, with no one to help whatever,

And it seems even that no one cares – you cannot, you must not quit faith.

These things will change just as the night changes to the day.

This present will another day become a past. This present may not hold the laments of fulfillment for you now,

But never mind, just don’t look at it now, look away: Look above it, beyond it, look beyond the mountaintop, even

Look toward the horizon – for there shall be new dawning in your world,

In your life, as surely as there follows after every flaming sunset a golden sunrise.

There will be for you: harmony, fulfillment, love, peace, success. Keep the onward look.

The now is a period of waiting of patience, of deepening understanding, Each cycle has its own time and hour – and that other

time and hour shall come as surely as springtime ripens into summer. Keep your heart filled with this knowing, this comfort, this

courage. The fulfillment hour is ahead – it is on the way, Give it a little more time...

Keep the onward look. * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Builder’s Lesson - by John Boyle O’Reilly

How shall I a habit break? As you did that habit make.

As you gathered, you must lose; As you yielded, now refuse.

Thread by thread the strands we twist ‘till they bind us, neck and wrist.

Thread by thread the patient hand must untwine, ‘ere free we stand.

As we build it stone by stone, we must toil, unhelped, alone.

‘Till the wall is overthrown. * * * * * * * * * *

A Man’s Reach - Robert Browning

“Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?” * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * The Divine Image

- William Blake To Mercy, Pity, Peace and Love

All pray in their distress; And to these virtues of delight

Return their Thankfulness. For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love

Is God, Our Father dear, And Mercy, Pit, Peace, and Love

Is man, His child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart, Pity a human face,

And love, the human form divine, And Peace, the human race.

Then every man of every clime, That prays in his distress,

Prays to the human God divine, Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Surprises

- Samuel Longfellow Into all our lives, in the simple familiar, homely ways,

God infuses this element of joy from the surprises of life, which unexpectedly brighten our days,

and fill our eyes with light. He drops this added sweetness

into His children’s cup, and makes it to run over. The success we are not counting on, the blessing we were not trying after,

the strain of music in the midst of drudgery, the beautiful morning picture or sunset glory

thrown in as we pass to or from our daily business. The unsought word of encouragement

or expression of sympathy; The sentence that meant for us more

than a writer or speaker thought – These and a hundred others that everyone

experiences can supply are instances of what I mean.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Practice, Practice

Practice, practice, practice makes perrrrfect. * * * * * * * * * * The Battleground

The human heart is the Dark One’s battleground * * * * * * * * * * * *

Live and Let Live. Treat others as you would like to be treated.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Triumph

- Virginia Stillman If you can sing when there is

no song in your heart; If you can keep on being loveable and lovely

When those who should be living you are blind; If you can hold a lifted brow.

Despite the weights your shoulders cannot bear, There is benediction there for you to share.

If you can carry on dry-eyed While your heart is drowning,

In a deluge of tears; if you can keep on going. When the pain in you is just too great,

And your soul is shaken with hopeless anguish, And your suffering, ache-filled body wants to slump;

If you can keep on going; and keep on going When nerves and blood and muscle scream and sob,

With the injustice and unholy ways of those who Should be warm and just, but can’t be, Because the abysmal holds for them

more lure then the celestial – Why God? But, if you can tilt your cheeks, sunward,

Keeping your eyes filled with spiritual light and massage. And coax a skip of child – like rhythm,

Into your legging walk - and lift your best foot forward, As though you had not care –

There is benediction there for you to share. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mankind - Napoleon Hill

If you would really know men, study them: When angry, when in love, when eating (alone and

unobserved, as they believe; When writing, when in trouble,

when joyful and triumphant; When downcast and defeated,

when facing catastrophe of a hazardous nature; When trying to make a ‘good impression’ on others;

When informed of another’s good fortune, when loosing in any sort of game of sport;

When winning at sports, when alone in a meditative mood. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Best of All He does well who does good to those

of his own brotherhood; He does better who does bless the stranger

in his wretchedness. Yet best, Oh, best of all does he who helps a fallen enemy.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Take the World As It Is

- Charles Swain (1803–74)

Take the world as it is!—there are good and bad in it, And good and bad will be from now to the end;

And they, who expect to make saints in a minute, Are in danger of marring more hearts than they’ll mend.

If ye wish to be happy ne’er seek for the faults, Or you’re sure to find something or other amiss; ’Mid much that debases, and much that exalts,

The world’s not a bad one if left as it is.

Take the world as it is!—if the surface be shining, Ne’er rake up the sediment hidden below!

There ’s wisdom in this, but there ’s none in repining O’er things which can rarely be mended, we know.

There ’s beauty around us, which let us enjoy; And chide not, unless it may be with a kiss;

Though Earth’s not the Heaven we thought when a boy, There’s something to live for, if ta’en as it is.

Take the world as it is!—with its smiles and its sorrow, Its love and its friendship,—its falsehood and truth,

Its schemes that depend on the breath of to-morrow, Its hopes which pass by like the dreams of our youth:

Yet, oh! whilst the light of affection may shine, The heart in itself hath a fountain of bliss;

In the worst there ’s some spark of a nature divine, And the wisest and best take the world as it is.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Success

- Author Unknown Success is speaking words of praise,

In cheering other people's ways. In doing just the best you can,

With every task and every plan. It's silence when your speech would hurt,

Politeness when your neighbor's curt. It's deafness when the scandal flows,

And sympathy with others' woes. It's loyalty when duty calls,

It's courage when disaster falls. It's patience when the hours are long,

It's found in laughter and in song. It's in the silent time of prayer, In happiness and in despair. In all of life and nothing less,

We find the thing we call success.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * *

Success - Henry Austin

Genius, that power which dazzles mortal eyes is oft but perseverance in disguise.

Continuous effort, of itself, implies, In spite of countless falls, the power to rise.

‘Twixt failure and success, the point’s so fine, Men sometimes know not when they touch the line.

Just when the pearl was waiting one more plunge, How many a struggler has thrown in the sponge!

As the tide goes out, it comes clear in; In business, ‘tis at turns the wisest win.

And oh! How true when shades of doubt dismay, “’Tis often darkest just before the day.”

A little more persistence, courage, vim! Success will dawn o’er fortune’s cloudy rim, Then take this honey for the bitterest cup:

“There is no failure save in giving up, No real fall as long as one still tries,

For seeming setbacks make the strong man wise. There’s no defeat, in truth, save from within;

Unless you’re beaten there, you’re bound to win.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Speak Gently

- David Bates Speak gently! -- It is better far to rule by love, than fear --

Speak gently -- let not harsh words mar the good we might do here! Speak gently! -- Love doth whisper low the vows that true hearts bind;

And gently Friendship's accents flow; affection's voice is kind. Speak gently to the little child! Its love be sure to gain;

Teach it in accents soft and mild: - It may not long remain. Speak gently to the young, for they will have enough to bear -- Pass through this life as best they may, 'tis full of anxious care! Speak gently to the aged one, grieve not the care-worn heart;

The sands of life are nearly run; let such in peace depart!

Speak gently, kindly, to the poor; let no harsh tone be heard; They have enough they must endure, without an unkind word! Speak gently to the erring - know, they may have toiled in vain; Perchance unkindness made them so; oh, win them back again! Speak gently! - He who gave his life to bend man's stubborn will, When elements were in fierce strife, said to them, 'Peace, be still.' Speak gently! - 'tis a little thing dropped in the heart's deep well;

The good, the joy, which it may bring, eternity shall tell. * * * * * * * * * * *

Don’t Waste Life In Doubts and Fears

“Don't waste life in doubts and fears; spend yourself on the work before you, well assured that the right performance of this hour's duties will be the best preparation for the hours and ages that will follow it.”

– Ralph Waldo Emerson * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * The Ship That Sails

- unknown I'd rather be the ship that sails

and rides the billows wild and free; Than be the ship that always fails

to leave its port and go to sea. I'd rather feel the sting of strife,

where gales are born and tempests roar; Than settle down to a useless life and rot in dry dock on the shore.

I'd rather fight some mighty wave with honor in supreme command;

And fill a last well earned grave, than die at ease upon the sand.

I'd rather drive where storm winds blow and be the ship that always failed

To make the ports where it would go, than be the ship that never sails.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Drop A Pebble In the Water

- James W. Foley Drop a pebble in the water; just a splash, and it is gone;

But there’s half a hundred ripples circling on and on and on. Spreading, spreading from the center, flowing on out to the sea,

And there is no way of telling where the end is going to be.

Drop a word of cheer and kindness; just a flash and it is gone; But there’s half a hundred ripples circling on and on and on,

Bearing hope and joy and comfort on each splashing, dashing wave ‘Till you wouldn’t believe the volume of the one kind word you gave.

Drop a word of cheer and kindness in a minute you forget;

But there’s gladness still a swelling and there’s joy a-circling yet, And you’ve rolled a wave of comfort whose sweet music can be heard

Over miles and miles of water just by dropping one kind word. * * * * * * * * *

Ideals - unknown

Some men deem Gold their god, and some esteem Honor is the chief content that to man in life is lent;

and some others do contend there is none quite like a Friend; Others hold there is no wealth compared to Perfect Health;

Some man’s mind on Quiet stands, when he is Lord of many lands; But I did sign and said all this was but a shade of perfect bliss;

And in my thoughts I did approve naught so sweet as is True Love. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Be Kind

Words: Margaret Courtney (1822-1862) Tune : E.T. Pound 1869, Sacred Harp, Pg. 413

Be kind to thy father - for when thou wert young, Who loved thee so fondly as he?

He caught the first accents that fell from thy tongue, And joined in thine innocent glee.

Be kind to thy father, for now he is old, His locks intermingled with grey,

His footsteps are feeble, once fearless and bold; Thy father is passing away.

Be kind to thy mother - for lo! on her brow May traces of sorrow be seen,

O, well mayest thou cherish and comfort her now, For loving and kind hath she been.

Remember thy mother - for thee will she pray, As long as God giveth her breath,

With accents of kindness, then cheer her lone way, E'en to the dark valley of death.

Be kind to thy brother - his heart will have dearth, If the smile of thy love be withdrawn;

The flowers of feeling will fade at their birth, If the dew of affection be gone.

Be kind to thy brother - wherever you are, The love of a brother shall be

An ornament purer and richer by far, Than pearls from the depths of the sea.

Be kind to thy sister - not many may know The depth of true sisterly love;

The wealth of the Ocean lies fathoms below The surface that sparkles above. Thy kindness shall bring to thee

many sweet hours, and blessing thy pathway to crown;

Affection shall weave thee a garland of flowers, More precious than wealth or renown.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Bad Language Drives the Angels Away

When we use foul language, our guardian angels leave. * * * * * * * * * *

Beware of the Dark Ones Beware of a fiend in angelic form.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Accept Criticism

Accept criticism and seek counsel of those who will tell you your faults, mere praise will never bring the improvement

you need. He that won’t be counseled can’t’ be helped. –Anon.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * *

The Measure of a Man - unknown, Kansas City Star

Not - How did he die? But - How did he live? Not - What did he gain? But - What did he give?

These are the things that measure the worth Of a man as a man, regardless of birth.

Not - What was his station? But - had he a heart? And - How did he play his God-given part?

Was he ever ready with a word of good cheer? To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?

Not - What was his church? Not - What was his creed? But - Had he befriended those really in need?

Not - What did the sketch in the newspaper say? But - How many were sorry when he passed away?

These are the things that measure the worth Of a man as a man, regardless of birth.

* * * * * * * * * *

A Working Horse doesn’t kick A horse can’t pull while kicking, this fact I

merely mention; and he can’t kick while pulling, which is

my chief contention. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Four Things Four things a man must learn to do If he would make his record true:

To think without confusion clearly; To love his fellow-men sincerely;

To act from honest motives purely; To trust in God and Heaven securely. - Henry Van Dyke

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Wretched As You Choose

- Charles Kingsley If you want to be miserable, think about yourself,

About what you want, What you like, What respect people ought to pay you, And then nothing to you will be pure You will spoil everything you touch,

You will make misery for yourself out of everything Which God sends you,

You will be as wretched as you choose. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Self Inspection “Self inspection is the best cure for self- esteem.”

- Wordsworth * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Larger Prayer

By Edna D. Cheney

At first I prayed for Light: Could I but see the way,

How gladly, swiftly would I walk to everlasting day!

And next I prayed for Strength: That I might tread the road

with firm, unfaltering feet, and win The heaven's serene abode. And then I asked for Faith: Could I but trust my God,

I'd live enfolded in His peace, Though foes were all abroad.

But now I pray for Love: Deep love to God and man, A living love that will not fail,

However dark His plan. And Light and Strength and Faith

Are opening everywhere; God only waited for me, till I prayed the larger prayer.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Each New Day

- Ruth Scarbrough What if yesterday had its sorrows?

What if your day was diffused by grief – What if it rained when you wanted sunshine,

What if you labored without relief It doesn’t matter what did befall you

It doesn’t matter what might have been For God puts our yesterdays all behind us

And everyday lets us start over again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * We Are Free Agents

We are free agents unto God. Use it righteously. Give out compliments, not criticism (unless they really deserve it); All

things are possible to him who believes (but keep all the commandments or you won’t get anything); Give to all who asks of you (if you can). As we give, so shall we receive – spread your bread upon the water, And it may

come back buttered (or you might catch a fish). - Author Unknown * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kindness Kindness has more power then compulsion. – Anon.

* * * * * * * * * * * Beyond Yourself

“Welcome the task that makes you go beyond yourself. – Frank McGhie

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Faith

- Ella Wheeler Wilcox I will not doubt, though all my ships at sea

Come drifting home with broken masts and sails; I shall believe the Hand which never fails, From seeming evil worketh good for me;

And though I weep because those sails are battered, Still will I cry, while my best hopes lie shattered,

I trust in Thee.

I will not doubt, though all my prayers return Unanswered from the still, white Realm above;

I shall believe it is an all-wise Love Which has refused those things for which I yearn; And though at times I cannot keep from grieving,

Yet the pure ardor of my fixed believing Undimmed shall burn.

I will not doubt, though sorrows fall like rain, And troubles swarm like bees about a hive; I shall believe the heights for which I strive Are only reached by anguish and by pain;

And though I groan and tremble with my crosses, I yet shall see, through my severest losses,

The greater gain.

I will not doubt; well-anchored in the faith, Like some staunch ship, my soul braves every gale;

So strong its courage that it will not fail To breast the mighty unknown sea of Death.

Oh, may I cry when body parts with spirit, I do not doubt, so listening worlds may hear it,

With my last breath. * * * * * * * * * * *

Don’t Envy Other Folks - unknown

Don’t think when you have troubles that your neighbor goes scot-free

Because he shows a smiling front, and battles cheerfully. No, man! He, too, has troubles, but herein the difference lies,

While you go idly moping round, the other fellow tries. Don’t envy other people; maybe if the truth you know,

You’d find their burdens heavier far then is the case with you, Because a fellow, rain or shine, can show a smiling face,

Don’t think you’d have an easier time, If you could take his place.

‘Tis hope and cheery courage that incite one to retrieve, One’s past mistakes, to start a fresh, to dare and to achieve, So smile, and if perchance you light the spark of hope anew.

In some poor sad and burdened heart, all honor be to you. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Your Neighbor - H. Howard Biggar

Do you know the neighbor who lives in your block, Do you ever take time for a bit of talk?

Do you know his troubles, his heartaches, his cares, The battles he’s fighting, the burdens he bears? Do you greet him with joy or pass him right by With a questioning look and a quizzical eye?

Do you bid him “Good morning” and “How do you do,” Or shrug up as if he was nothing to you? He may be a chap with a mighty bit heart,

And a welcome that grips, if you just do your part. And I know you’ll coax out his sunniest smile,

If you’ll stop with this neighbor and visit awhile.

We rush on so fast in these strenuous days, We’re apt to find fault when it’s better to praise. We judge a man’s worth by the make of his car;

We’re anxious to find what his politics are. But somehow it seldom gets under the hide, The fact that the fellow we’re living beside Is a fellow like us, with a hankering, too,

For a grip of the hand and a “How do you do!” With a heart that responds in a welcome sincere If you’ll just stop to fling him a message of cheer,

And I know you’ll coax out his sunniest smile, If you’ll stop with this neighbor and visit awhile.

From Poems that Touch the Heart, A.L. Alexander * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Kindly Neighbor - Edgar A. Guest

I have a kindly neighbor, one who stands Beside my gate and chats with me awhile.

Gives me the glory of his radiant smile And comes at times to help with willing hands. No station high or rank this man commands; He, too, must trudge, as I, the long day’s mile;

And yet; devoid of pomp or gaudy style, He has a worth exceeding stocks or lands.

To him I go when sorrow’s at my door;

On him I lean when burdens come my way; Together oft we talk our trials o’er,

And there is warmth in each good night we say. A kindly neighbor! Wars and strife shall end

When man has made the man next door his friend. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * The Little Things

- Elizabeth Isler Men cannot guess the things they do

To make a woman feel secure And loved, the merest well-timed smile,

Can stir her heart and leave it secure.

A man may slave to prove his faith And never dream, that has not meant

So much to her as watching him Just smoke a pipe at home, content.

The loud, protective ways of men Are there for all the world to see

But women warm their hearts as fires That burn unnoticed, quietly.

* * * * * * * * * * Worries

- unknown Take yesterday’s worries and sort them all out and you’ll

wonder whatever you worried about, Look back, at the cares that once furrowed your brow,

I fancy you’ll smile at most of them now, They seemed terrible then, but they really were not, For once out of the woods all the fears are forgot.

* * * * * * * * * * * The Philosopher

- Sara Teasdale I saw him sitting in his door, trembling as old men do;

His house was old; his barn was old, and yet his eyes seemed new. His eyes had seen three times my years; and kept a twinkle still.

Though they had looked on birth, death, and three graves upon a hill. “I will sit down with you,” I said, “and you will make me wise; Tell me how you have kept the joy, still burning in your eyes.”

Then, like an old-time orator impressively he rose; “I make the most of all that comes, the least of all that goes.”

The jingling rhythm of his words echoes as old songs do, Yet, this had kept his eyes alight ‘till he was ninety-two.

* * * * * * * * * Learned to Wait

- unknown Learn to wait – life’s hardest lesson, conned, perchance, through

blinding tears; while the heart throbs sadly echo to the tread of passing years. Learn to wait – hopes slow fruition; faint not, though the way seems long; There is joy in every condition; hearts through suffering

may grow strong. Thus a soul touched by sorrow aims not at a higher state; joy seeks not a brighter morrow; Only sad hearts learn to wait.

* * * * * * * * * * * What We Do

Whatever we do the most makes us up. * * * * * * * * * *

If you ever get lost, take a step backward till you find your way back. * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Which Are You

- Ella Wheeler Wilcox There are two kinds of people on earth today;

Just two kinds of people, no more, I say. Not the sinner and saint, for it’s well understood, The good are half bad, and the bad are half good.

Not the rich and the poor, for to rate a man’s wealth, You must first know the state of his conscience and health.

Not the humble and proud, for in life’s little span, Who puts on vain airs, is not counted a man.

Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying years. Bring each man his laughter and each man his tears.

No, the two kinds of people on earth I mean, Are the people who lift, and the people who lean.

Wherever you go, you will find the earth’s masses, Are always divided in just these two classes,

And, oddly enough, you will find, too, I ween, There’s only one lifter to twenty who lean

In which class are you? Are you casing the load, Of overtaxed lifters, who toil down the road?

Of are you a leaner, who lets others share your portion, of labor and worry and care?

* * * * * * * * * * You Can Never Tell

- Ella Wheeler Wilcox You can never tell when you send a word

Like an arrow shot from a bow By an archer blind, be it cruel or kind,

Just where it may chance to go. It may pierce the breast of your dearest friend,

Tipped with its poison or balm, To a stranger’s heart in life’s great mart.

It may carry its pain or its calm. You never can tell when you do an act,

Just what results will be, But with every deed you are sowing a seed

Though the harvest you may not see, You never can tell what your thoughts will do.

In bringing you hate or love, for thoughts are things, and their airy wings.

Are swifter then carrier doves. They follow the law of the Universe

Each thing must create its kind, And they speed o’er the track to bring you back.

Whatever went out from your mind. * * * * * * * * * * *

Self Mastery The supreme human achievement is self mastery.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Criminal Intent

If you don’t have criminal intent, you can’t be charged with a crime. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * Worth While

- Ella Wheeler Wilcox It is easy enough to be pleasant When life flows by like a song,

But the man worth while is the one who will smile When everything goes dead wrong. For the test of the heart is trouble, And it always comes with the years,

And the smile that is worth the praises of earth Is the smile that shines through tears.

It is easy enough to be prudent

When nothing tempts you to stray, When without or within no voice of sin

Is luring your soul away; But it’s only a negative virtue

Until it is tried by fire, And the life that is worth the honour on earth

Is the one that resists desire.

By the cynic, the sad, the fallen, Who had no strength for the strife,

The world’s highway is cumbered to-day— They make up the sum of life;

But the virtue that conquers passion, And the sorrow that hides in a smile—

It is these that are worth the homage on earth, For we find them but once in a while.

- from Poems of Cheer, Gay and Hancock, 1914. * * * * * * * * *

The Sin of Omission - Margaret E. Sangster

It isn't the thing you do dear, it's the thing you leave undone That gives you a bit of a heartache at setting of the sun. The tender word forgotten, the letter you did not write,

The flowers you did not send, dear, are your haunting ghosts at night. The stone you might have lifted out of a brother's way;

The bit of heart-some counsel you were hurried too much to say; The loving touch of the hand, dear, the gentle, winning tone

Which you had no time nor thought for with troubles of your own.

Those little acts of kindness so easily out of mind, Those chances to be angels which we poor mortals find-

They come in night and silence, each sad, reproachful wraith, When hope is faint and flagging, and a chill has fallen on faith.

For life is all to short, dear, and sorrow is all too great, To suffer our slow compassion that tarries until too late;

And it isn't the thing you do, dear, it's the thing you leave undone Which gives you heartache at the setting of the sun.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Let Us Smile

- Anon. The thing that goes the farthest towards making life worthwhile, That cost the least and does the most, is just a pleasant smile, The smile that bubbles from a heart that loves its fellowmen, Will drive away the cloud of gloom and coax the sun again;

It’s full of worth and goodness, too, with manly kindness bent It’s worth a million dollars and doesn’t cost a cent.

There is no room for sadness when we see a cheery smile. It always has the same good look – it’s never out of style –

It nerves us on to try again when failure makes us blue;

The dimples of encouragement are good for me and you. It pays a higher interest for it is merely lent –

It’s worth a million dollars and doesn’t cost a cent. A smile comes very easy – you can wrinkle up with cheer A hundred times before you can squeeze out a soggy tear. It ripples out moreover, to the heart-strings that will tug.

And always leaves an echo that is very like a hug. So smile away, folks understand what by a smile is meant,

Its worth a million dollars and doesn’t cost a cent. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Most Vital Thing in Life - Greenville Kleiser

When you feel like saying something that you know you will regret, or keenly feel an insult not quite easy to forget, that's the time to curb resentment and maintain a mental peace. For when your mind is

tranquil all your ill-thoughts simply cease. It is easy to be angry when defrauded or defied, to be peeved or disappointed if your wishes are denied: but to win a worthy battle over selfishness and spite, you must

learn to keep strict silence though you know you're in the right. So keep your mental balance when confronted by a foe, be it enemy in ambush or some danger that you know. If you are poised and tranquil when all around is strife, be assured that you have mastered the most vital thing

in life. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Think Twice - Napoleon Hill

Think twice before you speak, because your words, and influence will plant the seed of either success

or failure in the mind of another. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Understand What You Believe In - unknown

Some like to understand what they believe in – and others like to believe in what they understand.

* * * * * * * * * * Perspective

Two men look out through the same bars – One sees the mud, and the other, the stars.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Lest Thou Forget - William L. Stidger

Lest thou forget in the years between The beautiful things thine eyes have seen; The light of the sun and the silver sheen

Of cobwebs over a field of green. The birth of love on a destined day

when blossomed the first sweet flowers of May and sunlight flooded the wistful way;

The vows we took and the prayers we said when the urge of love to the alters led and the mystical rites were read;

The sacrament scenes of death and birth; the tragedies testing human worth –

These are the timeless things of earth: Reverence, worship, and love and prayer,

Kneeling alone at the alter stair, Hearing the Infinite whisper there.

* * * * * * * * * * * The Door-Bell

-Charlotte Becker I never hear it ring without a creepy little thrill

Expectant of some possible adventure, good or ill – It may be just a friend who comes to have a cup of tea;

It may be just a letters old familiar mystery. It may be just a friend who comes to have cup of tea;

It may be just a letter old familiar mystery. It may be one who comes to sell some queer, unwanted thing; Or one who brings the latest news of war and uncrowned king.

It may be just these happenings of each day, but still I never hear it ring without that funny little thrill.

* * * * * * * * * * A Rich Abundant Life

-Bessie B. Decker Who looking back upon his troubled years,

Can say he has not gained through sorrow’s rain, Something of good? For through his falling tears, He sees the storms have vanished with their pain,

Leaving him nobler, cut in finer mold made strong by conflict,

Purified by fire to leave the grains of gold. The soul is freed forever – more from strife and

enters into rich abundant life. * * * * * * * * * * * * * Wicked or Righteous

Wicked people will not rise from the dead even once, but the righteous will rise many times.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Today I will not Whine

“Today I will not whine – I choose today to say only good things about other people.” * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * There’s No Need To Worry

- George A. Hellard Jr. Through the darkness of this life I travel everyday;

But there’s no need to worry, for I have found the way, And I know He will guide me wherever I must go.

So there’s no need to worry, God’s word has told me so. And there’s no need to worry even in the darkest night, For I’ll keep looking forward, and I will see His light. And He will lead me down the road, as narrow as it is.

But still no need to worry, because the road is His. So why waste any time at all, not a minute, hour or day? Where there’s no need to worry once you have found the way?

* * * * * * * * * * * * Stay on the Path

If we go with the flow, we may go over the cliff with the others. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hungering and Striving - Orison Swett Martin

Hungering and striving after knowledge is what makes a scholar; Hungering and striving after virtue is what makes a saint;

Hungering and striving after noble action is what makes a hero and a man. * * * * * * * * * * *

Good Old Hoss Let’s imitate the good old horse and lead a life that’s fitting.

Just pull an honest load and then there’ll be no time for kicking. - Author unknown * * * * * * * * * *

A Good Deal - C. Simmons

He who wants to do a good deal of good at once, will never do anything; Life is made up of little thing, It is very rarely that an occasion is offered for doing a great deal at once, true greatness consists

in being great in little things. * * * * * * * * * * *

Trials, Temptations, Disappointments - James Buckham

Trials, temptations, disappointments -- all these are helps instead of hindrances, if one uses them rightly. They not only test the fiber of

character but strengthen it. Every conquering temptation represents a new fund of moral energy. Every trial endured and weathered in the

right spirit makes a soul nobler and stronger than it was before.” * * * * * * * * * * *

Honor Bernard Shaw said of Honor: You can not believe in honor until you have achieved it. Better keep

yourself clean and bright: You are the window through which you must see the world. * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Better Than Gold - Abram J. Ryan Better than grandeur, better than gold, Than rank and titles a thousand fold, Is a healthy body and a mind at ease,

And simple pleasures that always please A heart that can feel for another's woe,

With sympathies large enough to enfold All men as brothers, is better than gold.

Better than gold is a conscience clear, Though toiling for bread in an humble sphere,

Doubly blessed with content and health, Untried by the lusts and cares of wealth,

Lowly living and lofty thought Adorn and ennoble a poor man's cot; For mind and morals in nature's plan Are the genuine tests of a gentleman.

Better than gold is the sweet repose Of the sons of toil when the labors close; Better than gold is the poor man's sleep,

And the balm that drops on his slumbers deep. Bring sleeping draughts on the downy bed,

Where luxury pillows its aching head, The toiler simple opiate deems

A shorter route to the land of dreams.

Better than gold is a thinking mind, That in the realm of books can find

A treasure surpassing Australian ore, And live with the great and good of yore.

The sage's lore and the poet's lay, The glories of empires passed away;

The world's great dream will thus unfold And yield a pleasure better than gold.

Better than gold is a peaceful home Where all the fireside characters come, The shrine of love, the heaven of life, Hallowed by mother, or sister, or wife. However humble the home may be,

Or tried with sorrow by heaven's decree, The blessings that never were bought or sold,

And centre there, are better than gold. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Oh, Face to Face - Margaret E. Sangster

Oh face to face with trouble, friend, I have often stood, To learn that path hath sweetness is to know that God is good.

Arise and meet the daylight, be strong and do your best, with an honest heart, And a child like trust, that God will do the rest.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * This Too, Shall Pass Away

- unknown Whate’er thou art, wher’er they footsteps stray, Heed these wise words; this too shall pass away,

Oh, jewel sentence from the mine of truth! What riches it contains for age or youth, No stately epic, measured and sublime, So comforts, or so counsels, for all time

As these few words, go write them on your heart And make them of your daily life a part,

Art thou in misery, brother? Then I pray be comforted! Thy grief shall pass away. Art thou elated?

Ah, be not too gay; Temper thy joy; this too shall pass away. Fame, glory, place and power,

They are but little baubles of the hour, Thus, be not o’er, proud, Nor yet cast down’ judge thou

aright; When skies are clear, expect the cloud; In darkness, wait the coming light; Whatever be thy fate today, Remember, even

this, shall pass away! * * * * * * * * * * *

‘Tis a Little Journey - unknown

‘Tis a little journey this we walk; hardly time for murmur – time for talk.

Yet we learn to quarrel and to hate; afterward regret it when too late,

Now and then ‘tis sunshine – sometimes dark; sometimes care and sorrow leave their mark.

Yet we walk the pathway side by side; Where so many others lived and died.

We can see the moral, understand; Yet we walk not always hand in hand.

Why must there be hatred? Greed and strife? Do we need such shadows here in life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Quiet Life - Alexander Pope

Happy the man, whose wish and care a few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air in his own ground.

Whose herbs with milk, whose fields with bread, whose flocks supply him with attire;

Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter, fire. Blest, who can unconcern’dly find hours,

Days and years, slide soft away in health of body, Peace of mind, quiet by day.

Sound sleep by night, study and ease together mix’d Sweet recreation and innocence,

which most does please with meditation. Thus let me live, unseen unknown;

Thus lamented let me die; Steal from the world, and not a stone tell where I lie.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Say Something Good

- anon. Pick out the folks you like the least and watch ‘em for a while;

They never waste a kindly word, they never waste a smile; They criticize their fellow men at every chance they get. They never found a human just to suit their fancy yet.

From them I guess you’d learn some things if they were pointed out Some things that everyone of us should know a lot about,

When some one ‘knocks’ a brother, pass around the loving cup- Say something good about him if you have to make it up.

It’s safe to say that every man God made holds a trace of good.

That he would fain exhibit to his flows if he could. The kindly deeds in many a soul are hibernating there. Awaiting the encouragement of others souls that dare. To show the best that’s in them; and a universal move

Would start the whole world running in a hopeful helpful groove. Say something sweet to paralyze the ‘knocker’ on the spot –

Speak kindly of his victim if you know the man or not.

The eyes that peek and peer to find the worst a brother holds,

The tongue that speaks in bitterness, that frets and fumes and scolds; The hands that bruise the fallen,

through their strength was made to raise, The weaklings who have stumbled

at the parting of the ways – All these should be forgiven

for they ‘know not what they do’; Their hindrance makes a greater work

for wiser ones like you. So, when they scourge a wretched one

who’s drained sin’s bitter cup, Say something good about him

if you have to make it up. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Four Things A Man Must Do

Four things a man must learn to do If he would make his record true: To think without confusion clearly; To love his fellow-men sincerely; To act from honest motives purely; To trust in God and Heaven securely. –Henry Van Dyke

Other things besides these four that a man must learn, are how to make a living, to perform his duties well, to control his tongue, to mind his own

business, to govern his passions, to keep his head level, to take care of his health, to fix up his accounts, to know the time of day, to economize, to steer clear of mischief, to be mannerly, to pick up knowledge, to keep wide awake,

to know a good thing when he sees it, and to avoid all evil, if he would make his record true.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

True Happiness - Morris Talfalar

These are the things which once possessed, Will make a life that truly blessed:

A good estate on healthy soil Not got by vice, nor yet by toil:

Round a warm fire, a pleasant joke, with chimney ever free from smoke: A strength entire, a sparkling bowl,

A quiet wife, a quiet soul, A mind as well as body whole:

Prudent simplicity, constant friends, A diet which no art commends:

A merry night without much drinking, A happy thought without much thinking:

Each night by quiet sleep made short, A will to be but what thou art: Possessed of these, all else defy, And neither wish nor fear to die.

* * * * * * * * * * * * One Thing At A Time

- M.A. Stodart Work while you work, play, while you play;

That is the way to be cheerful and gay. All that you do, do with your might;

Things done by halves are never done right. One thing each time and that done well,

Is a very good rule, As many can tell. Moments are useless trifled away;

So work while you work, and play while you play. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Solitary Way - Unknown

There is a mystery in human hearts, And though we be encircled by a host

Of those who love us well, and are beloved, To every one of us, from time to time,

There comes a sense of utter loneliness. Our dearest friend is "stranger" to our joy,

And cannot realize our bitterness. "There is not one who really understands,

Not one to enter into all I feel;" Such is the cry of each of us in turn,

We wander in a "solitary way," No matter what or where our lot may be;

Each heart, mysterious even to itself, Must live its inner life in solitude.

(Proverbs 14:10; 1 Corinthians 2:11,) * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Real Law Breakers If you defy authority, then they make you guilty, even though the laws are unconstitutional, which means they are

the real law breakers. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Hearsay - unknown

In every tour, in every street, in nearly every house you meet A little imp, who wriggles in,

with half a sneer and half a grin, And climbs upon your rocking chair

or creeps upon you anywhere. And when he gets you very near just

whispers something in your ear, Some rumor or another’s shame, and little ‘Hearsay’ is his name. He never really claims to know.

he’s only heard that it is so;

And then he whispers it to you; so you will go and whisper too. For if enough is passed along,

the rumor even though it’s wrong, If John tells Henry; Henry, Flo; and Flo

tells Mildred, and Mildred, Ruth; It very soon will pass for truth. You understand this little elf;

He doesn't say he knows himself; he only whispers it to you;

Because he knows you’ll go and tell some other whisperers as well;

And so before the setting sun he gets the devil’s mischief done,

And there is less of joy and good, around your little neighborhood.

Look out for ‘Hearsay’ when he sneaks inside the house

when slander speaks,

Just ask the proof in every case; just ask the name, the date, the place; And if he says he only heard, declare you don’t believe a word And tell him that you’ll not repeat the silly chatter of the street, However gossips smile and smirk, refuse to do the devil’s work!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Saints or Sinners “He that falls into sin is a man, he that grieves at t is a saint,

He that boasteth of it is a devil.” – Fuller * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * The Grumble Family

- unknown There’s a family nobody likes to meet.

They live, it is said, on complaining street, In the city of Never Are Satisfied, The river of Discontent beside.

They growl at that, and they growl at this; Whatever comes there is something amiss;

And whether their station be high or humble, They are known by the name of Grumble. The weather is always too hot or too cold,

Summer or winter alike they scold; Nothing goes right with the folks you meet,

Down on that gloomy Complaining Street,

They growl at the rain, and they growl at the sun; In fact, their growling is never don,

And if everything pleased them, There isn’t a doubt, they’d growl that

they’d nothing to grumble about! And the worst thing is that if anyone stays

Among them too long he will learn their ways, And before he dreams of the terrible jumble –

He’s adopted into the family of Grumble,

So it were wisest to keep our feet from Wandering into Grumbling Street;

And never to growl, whatever we do. Lest we be mistaken for Grumblers too.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * The World Is Mine

- unknown Today upon a bus, I saw a lovely maid with golden hair; I envied her—

she seemed so happy, and how I wished I were so fair; When suddenly she rose to leave, I saw her hobble down the aisle; she had

one foot and wore a crutch, but as she passed, a smile. Oh God, forgive me when I whine, I have two feet—the world is mine.

And when I stopped to buy some sweets, the lad who served me had such charm; he seemed to radiate good cheer, his manner was so kind and warm; I said, 'It's nice to deal with you, such courtesy I seldom find'; he said, 'It's nice to deal with you, such courtesy I seldom find'; he turned and said, 'Oh, thank you sir.' And then I saw that he was and said, 'Oh, thank you sir.' And then I saw that he was blind. Oh, God, forgive me when I whine, I have two eyes, the world is God, forgive me when I whine, I have

two eyes, the world is mine. Then, when walking down the street, I saw a child with eyes of blue; he stood and watched the others play, it seemed he knew not what

to do; I stopped a moment, then I said, 'Why don't you join the others, dear?' He looked ahead without a word, and then I knew he could not hear. Oh God, forgive me when I whine, I have two ears, the world is mine. With feet to take me where I'd go; with eyes to

see the sunsets glow, with ears to hear what I would know. I am blessed indeed. The world is mine; oh, God, forgive me when I whine.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Say It Now - Francis Bacon

If you have a friend worth loving, love him, yes, and let him know That you love him,

‘ere life’s evening tinge his brow with sunset glow, Why should good words ne’er be said of a friend- till he is dead?

If you hear a prayer that moves you sung by any child of song, Praise it, Do not let the singer wait deserved praises long,

Why should one who thrills your heart lack the joy you may impart?

If you hear a prayer that moves you by its humble, pleading tone,

Join it. Do not let the seeker bow before his God alone.

Why should not your brother share the strength of ‘two or three’ in prayer? If you see the hot tears falling from a brother’s

weeping eyes, Share them, and by kindly sharing own our kinship in the skies,

Why should anyone be glad when a brother’s heart is sad? If your work is made more easy by a friendly, helping hand,

Say so, speak out brave and truly ‘ere the darkness veil the land, Should a brother workman dear falter for a word of cheer? Scatter thus your seeds of kindness all enriching as you go –

Leave them, trust the Harvest Giver; He will make each seed to grow, So until the Happy and your life will never lack a friend.

* * * * * * * * * * * Petition in Faith - Roxie Lusk Smith

When your problems rise up To bog and depress,

And your spirit gives way to despair; When your mind is a vent

To a burden's intent, And your lips can't give voice to a prayer--

Turn away from the thoughts That cause you distress,

They hinder the self in repair; Trust God to provide

What the heartstrings confide; With assurance, you're still in His care.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Count Your Blessings - by Luther Elvis Albright

When I am prone to worry and When burdens weigh me down,

I find that counting blessing helps Me wipe away my frown.

Instead of counting troubles we Should count our blessings more;

Then we would know that all is well E'en on earth's rugged shore.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * My Creed - S. E. Kiser

This is my creed: To do some good, To bear my ills without complaining, To press on as a brave man should

For honors that are worth the gaining; To seek no profits where I may,

By winning them, bring grief to others; To do some service day by day

In helping on my toiling brothers. This is my creed: To close my eyes To little faults of those around me;

To strive to be when each day dies

Some better than the morning found me; To ask for no unearned applause, To cross no river until I reach it;

To see the merit of the cause Before I follow those who preach it.....

To keep my standards always high, To find my task and always do it:

This is my creed - I wish that I Could learn to shape my action to it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Count That Day Lost

- George Elliot (Mary Ann Evans) If you sit down at the set of sun

And count the acts that you have done, And, counting, find one self-denying deed, one word

That eased the heart of him who heard, One glance most kind that fell like sunshine where it went –

Then you may count that day well spent. But, if, through all the livelong day,

You’ve cheered no heart, by yea or nay – If, through it all, you’ve nothing done that you can trace

That brought the sunshine to one face -- No act most small that helped some soul and nothing cost

Then count that day as worse than lost. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mary Ann Evans (1819-1880) was an English novelist and poet, more well- known by her name George Eliot, and also for a time used Mary Anne and Marian as variant spellings of her name. She was born Nov. 22, 1819 in Chilvers Coton, a famous novelist from England, the last child of an estate agent. During her childhood she went through a phase of evangelical piety, but her free-thinking caused a break with orthodox religion. She studied at Mrs. Wallington’s School, Nuneaton (boarding school, in 1828-32). She dated John Walter Cross (husband) and amongst other amorous encounters was George Henry Lewes (boyfriend). She died on Dec 22, 1880 in London, cause of death kidney failure. In London she met George Henry Lewes, a journalist and advanced thinker. He was separated from his wife, and had two sons by another man, but had been unable to obtain a divorce. Mary Ann Evans began living openly with Lewes in 1854, which they both considered as sacred as a legal marriage

and one that lasted until his death in 1878. * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * A Bargain Sale

- S.E. Kiser I’m offering for sale today

A lot of things I’ll need no more; Come, please, and take them all away, I’ve piled them up outside my door.

I’ll make the prices low enough, And trust you, if it’s trust you need;

Here I have listed all my stuff, Make your selection as you read:

A lot of prejudices which Have ceased to be of use to me;

A stock of envy of the rich, Some slightly shopworn jealousy;

A large supply of gloom that I Must not permit to clog my shelves;

I offer bargains-who will buy?

Name prices that will suit yourselves. A lot of wishes I’ve outgrown, A stock of silly old beliefs;

Some pride I once was proud to own, A bulky line of dreads and griefs;

An old assortment of ill will, A job lot of bad faith and doubt,

Harsh words that have their poison still; Choose as you please-I’m closing out.

I need more room for kindliness, For hope and courage and good cheer,

Take all the hatred I possess, The superstitions and the fear;

A large supply of frailties I Shall have no use for from today;

I offer bargains; who will buy The rubbish must be cleared away!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * To Make This Life Worthwhile

- Mary Ann Evans (George Elliot) May every soul that touches mine -

Be it the slightest contact— Get from there some good;

Some little grace; one kindly thought; One aspiration yet unfelt; one bit of courage

For the darkening sky; one gleam of faith To brave the thickening ills of life;

One glimpse of brighter skies Beyond the gathering mists— To make this life worthwhile, And heaven a surer heritage. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Comfort of Feeling Safe - George Elliot (Mary Ann Evans) Oh the comfort of feeling safe

with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts,

nor measure words, but to pour them all out

just as chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand

will take and sift them, keeping what is worth keeping and with a breath of kindness,

blow the rest away. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Equipment - Edgar A. Guest

Figure it out for yourself, my lad, You’ve all that the greatest of men have had,

Two arms, two hands, two legs, two eyes And a brain to use if you would be wise.

With this equipment they all began, So start from the top and say, “I can.” Look them over, the wise and great,

They take their food from a common plate, And similar knives and forks they use, With similar laces they tie their shoes.

The world considers them brave and smart, But you’ve all they had when they made their start.

You can triumph and come to skill, You can be great if you only will.

You’re well equipped for what fight you choose, You have legs and arms and a brain to use,

And the man who has risen great deeds to do Began his life with no more than you. You are the handicap you must face,

You are the one who must choose his place, You must say where you want to go,

How much you will study the truth to know, God has equipped you for life, but He

Lets you decide what you want to be. Courage must come from the soul within,

The man must furnish the will to win, So figure it out for yourself, my lad.

You were born with all that the great have had, With your equipment they all began

Get hold of yourself, and say: “I can”. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Stout-Hearted Men

- Sigmund Romberg/Oscar Hammerstein II Give me some men who are stout-hearted men

Who will fight for the right they adore. Start me with ten, who are stout-hearted men

And I'll soon give you ten thousand more. Oh! Shoulder to shoulder and bolder and bolder

They grow as they go to the fore! Then there's nothing in the world can halt or mar a plan, When stout-hearted men can stick together man to man!

You who have dreams, if you act, they will come true. To turn your dream to a fact it's up to you.

If you have the soul and the spirit, Never fear it, you'll see it through.

Hearts can inspire other hearts with their fire, For the strong obey when a strong man

Shows them the way.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Maesia's Song

- Robert Greene Sweet are the thoughts that savor of content;

The quiet mind is richer than a crown; Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent; The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown.

Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss, Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.

The homely house that harbors quiet rest; The cottage that affords no pride nor care;

The mean that 'grees with country music best; The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare;

Obscurèd life sets down a type of bliss: A mind content both crown and kingdom is.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Strength for Today

- Polyanna Sedzial The joy of the Lord is my strength and salvation

The joy of the Lord is my song The joy of the Lord is my daily direction,

My peace and delight all day long. When Life overwhelms and frustrations perplex

When all is askew and awry I turn for relief to the joy of the Lord, I’m restored by our God Jesus Christ

and his Father today. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Christ Beside You “Try living for 24 hours as if Christ was right beside you.”

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Live In Faith

--by Robert E.B. Fielder Live in Faith, knowing that far more rewarding & longer enduring than

monuments, fame, or fortune, are the acts of Love, kindness, & consideration The Almighty privileges each of us to

Perform every day of our lives. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Alphabet of Success Attend carefully to details.

Be prompt in all things. Consider well - then decide positively

Dare to do right, fear to do wrong. Endure trials patiently.

Fight life's battles bravely. Go not into the society of the vicious.

Hold integrity sacred.

Injure not another's reputation. Join hands only with the virtuous.

Keep your mind free from evil thoughts. Lie not for any consideration.

Make a few special acquaintances. Never try to appear what you are not.

Observe good manners. Pay your debts promptly.

Question not the veracity of a friend.

Respect the counsel of your parents.

Sacrifice money rather than principle. Use your leisure for improvement.

Venture not on the threshold of wrong. Watch carefully over your passions.

Extend to everyone a kindly greeting. Yield not to discouragement.

Zealously labor for the right and success is certain. - Selected, Published in the Ladies Home Journal & The Exchange

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Success and Suffering

"Success and suffering are vitally and organically linked. If you succeed without suffering, it is because someone suffered for

you; if you suffer without succeeding, it is in order that someone else may succeed after you."

- Edward Judson * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Life Is What We Make Of It “Life is not always what one wants it to be,

but to make the best of it as it is, is the only way of being happy.” - Jennie Jerome Churchill

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * What Is Success?

- Bessie A. Stanley He has achieved success who has lived well, laughed often, and

loved much; who has enjoyed the trust of pure women, the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children; who has filled his

niche and accomplished his task; who has left the world better than he found it, whether an improved poppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul; who has always looked for the best in others and

given them the best he had; whose life was an inspiration; whose memory a benediction.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Sow to Reap

Sow abundantly and you will reap abundantly Sow sparingly and you will reap sparingly

For whatever we sow so shall we reap If we sow love we shall reap love If we sow hate we shall reap hate.

If you plant abundantly you shall reap abundantly; if you plant sparingly, you also shall reap sparingly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * We Reap Our Sowing

- unknown A little work, a little play, to keep us going –

and so good day! A little warmth, a little light of love’s Bestowing – and so, good – night! A little fun, to match the sorrow

Of each day’s growing – and so good-morrow. A little trust, that when we die, we reap our sowing!

And so - good bye! * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sow in Tears, Reap in Joy They that sow in tears, will reap in joy.

* * * * * * * * Success

- Bessie A. Stanley You can’t fell trees, without some chips. You can’t achieve without some slips;

Unless you try you’ll wonder why, Good fortune will pass you by success

Is not for those who quail, She gives her best to those who fail.

And then with courage twice as great, Take issue once gain with fate,

‘Tis better for to risk a fall, Then not to make an attempt at all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Like Begets Like

- Anon Like begets like, a laugh brings a laugh;

A good deed calls for a good deed; Riches beget riches, love begets love -

and you go on from there! Hate begets hate, Envy begets envy; Strife begets strife, theft begets theft;

Criticism, begets criticism; lies beget lies; Kindness begets kindness, we are sowing daily sowing;

Countless seeds of good and ill; It works! It’s contagious!

The old law of attraction never fails What will you sow today?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I’d Rather have Jesus

- Rhea F. Miller (1) I’d rather have Jesus than silver or gold; I’d rather be His than have riches untold; I’d rather have Jesus than houses or lands; I’d rather be led by His nail-pierced hand

Refrain: Than to be the king of a vast domain

And be held in sin’s dread sway; I’d rather have Jesus than anything

This world affords today. (2) I’d rather have Jesus than men’s applause;

I’d rather be faithful to His dear cause; I’d rather have Jesus than worldwide fame;

I’d rather be true to His holy name (3) He’s fairer than lilies of rarest bloom;

He’s sweeter than honey from out the comb; He’s all that my hungering spirit needs; I’d rather have Jesus and let Him lead.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Life’s made Up Of Little Things

- Mary R. Hartman Life’s made up of little things, no great sacrifice or duty, but smiles and many

a cheerful word fill up our lives with beauty, The heartaches, as they come and go, are but blessings in disguise, for them will turn the pages o’er and

show us great surprises. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Not What It Seems - Beverly J. Anderson

Not all in life may be what it seems, blessings come wrapped in disguise. What seems a trial may prove a sweet gift sent by our Father, all wise. What seems to be a wall we can’t budge may be door that’s unknown; What seems to be a stumbling block, may be a large stepping stone.

We see in part, but God views the whole. He knows each outcome to be Not all in life may be what it seems, Trust God and wait, and you’ll see.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Life’s Mirror

- Madeline Bridges There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave;

There are souls that are pure and true; Then give the world the best you have,

and the best will come back to you. Give love, and love to your life will flow,

A strength in your utmost need. Have faith, and a score of hearts will show

Their faith in your words and deed. Give Truth, and your gift will be paid in kind;

And honor will honor meet; And a smile that is sweet will surely

Find a smile that is just as sweet. Give pity and sorrow to those who mourn,

You will gather in flowers again, The scattered seeds from your

thoughts out-bourne Though the sowing seemed but vain.

For life is the mirror of kings and slave, ‘Tis just what we are and do;

Then give to the world the best you have, And the best will come back to you.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Compensation

- E. M. Brainard Who never wept knows laughter but a jest; Who never failed, no victory has sought; Who never suffered, never lived his best; Who never doubted, never really thought;

Who never feared, real courage has never shown; Who never faltered, lacks a real intent;

Whose soul was never troubled has not known The sweetness and the peace of real content.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Little Things - unknown

Little words are the sweetest to hear; little charities fly farthest and stay longest on the wing; little lakes are the stillest; little hearts are the fullest and little farms

are the best tilled. Little books are read the most and little songs are the dearest loved. And when nature would make anything especially rare and

beautiful, she makes it little; little diamonds, little dews. Life is made up of littles; day is made up of

little beams; night is glorious with little stars. From: Poems That Touch The Heart, A.L. Alexander,

1984, Random House, Inc. * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * First Impressions

- Alfred Grant Walton It is not right to judge a man

By hasty glance or passing whim, Or think that first impressions can Tell all there is to know of him.

Who knows what weight of weariness The man we rashly judge may bear,

The burden of his loneliness. His blighted hopes, his secret care.

A pompous guise or air of pride May only be an outward screen,

A compensation meant to hide A baffled will, a grief unseen. However odd a person seems,

However strange his ways may be, Within each human spirit gleams

A spark of true divinity. So what can first impressions tell?

Unthinking judgments will not do, Who really knows a person well May also come to like him too!

* * * * * * * * * * * This Is Your Hour

- Herbert Kaufman This is your hour - creep upon it!

Summon your power, leap upon it! Grasp it, clasp it, hold it tight!

Strike it, spike it, with full might! If you take too long to ponder,

Opportunity may wander. Yesterday's a bag of sorrow;

No man ever finds Tomorrow. Hesitation is a mire-

Climb out, climb up climb on higher!

Fumble, stumble, risk a tumble, Make a start, however humble!

Do your best and do it now! Pluck and grit will find out how.

Persevere, although you tire- While a spark is left, there's fire.

Distrust doubt; doubt is a liar. Even if all mankind jeer you,

You can force the world to cheer you. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Out Of The Sewer “You can pull a person out of the sewer, but you can’t always pull the sewer out of the person.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


For One Who Is Serene

Margaret E. Bruner Sometimes when I feel hurried or dismayed, Your face in calmness comes before my view,

And on your features then I see displayed An understanding look, as if you knew

That I have need of your serenity; I feel your presence though you dwell afar,

And something of your poise is given to me, Remote, yet like a steady-gleaming star. . . Madonna-like, it seems you are imbued

With peace, which lends me strength and fortitude. From: Poems That Touch The Heart, A.L. Alexander, 1984,

Random House, Inc. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Song - Laurence Benyon

For mercy, courage, kindness, mirth There is no measure upon earth, Nay, they wither, root and stem,

If and end be set to them. Over brim and overflow

If your own heart you would know; For the spirit born to bless

Lives but in its own success. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Opinionated

A man cannot speak, but he judges himself, with his will or against his will he draws his portraits to the eye of this companion by every word. Every

opinion reacts on him who utters it. It is a thread-ball, thrown at a mark, but the other end remains in the throwers bag, or rather, it is a harpoon thrown at the whale, unwinding, as it flies, a coil of cord in the boat, and if the harpoon is not good or not well thrown it will go nigh to cut the steer man in twain out

to sink the boat. – Ralph Waldo Emerson * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * *

Benjamin Franklin’s 13 Moral Virtues “Around 1730, while in his late 20’s, Benjamin Franklin conceived and proved the following plan for successful living which is taken from his famous autobiography. He stated “I conceived the bold and arduous project of arriving at moral perfection… I concluded … that contrary habits must be broken, and good ones acquire and established, before we can have any dependence on a steady, uniform rectitude of conduct, and for this purpose I therefore contrived the following method).” Taken from: The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin, Published by BibliLife, 2009, pg 126.

1. Temperance: Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation. 2. Silence: Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling

conversation. 3. Order: Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its

time. 4. Resolution: Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you

resolve. 5. Frugality: Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing. 6. Industry: Lose no time; be always employed in something useful; cut off all

unnecessary actions. 7. Sincerity: Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if

you speak, speak accordingly. 8. Justice: Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that

are your duty. 9. Moderation: Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries so much as

you think they deserve. 10. Cleanliness: Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, or

habitation. 11. Tranquility: Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or

unavoidable. 12. Chastity: Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dullness, weakness,

or the injury of your own or another's peace or reputation. 13. Humility: Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * Be Strong!

By Maltbie Davenport Babcock; 1858 - 1901

Be strong! We are not here to play, to dream, to drift, We have hard work to do, and loads to lift. Shun not the struggle; face it. 'Tis God's gift.

Be strong! Say not the days are evil, - Who's to blame?

And fold not the hands and acquiesce, - O shame! Stand up, speak out, and bravely, in God's name.

Be strong! It matters not how deep entrenched the wrong,

How hard the battle goes, the day, how long. Faint not, fight on! To-morrow comes the song.

Other Quotes by Maltbie Davenport Babcock (1858 - 1901)

“Pay as little attention to discouragement as possible. Plough ahead as a steamer does, rough or smooth - rain or shine. To carry your cargo and make your port is the point.” “The tests of life are to make, not break us. Trouble may demolish a man's business but build up his character. The blow at the outward man may be the greatest blessing to the inner man. If God, then, puts or permits anything hard in our lives, be sure that the real peril, the real trouble, is that we shall lose if we flinch or rebel.”

“Business is religion, and religion is business. The man who does not make a business of his religion has a religious life of no force, and the man who does

not make a religion of his business has a business life of no character.”

“Good habits are not made on birthdays, nor Christian character at the new year. The workshop of character is everyday life. The uneventful and

commonplace hour is where the battle is lost or won.”

“Our business in life is not to get ahead of other people, but to get ahead of ourselves.”

“Present suffering is not enjoyable, but life would be worth little without it. The difference between iron and steel is fire, but steel is worth all it costs.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Maltbie D. Babcock (1858-1901 ) was an American Presbyterian clergyman, born in Syracuse, N.Y. He graduated from Syracuse University and Auburn Theological Seminary in 1883. His grandfather was a minister of mote. He ministered at Lockport, N.Y., Baltimore, M.D. and at the Brick Pres. Church in N.Y. he led a fund-raising effort to assist Jewish refugees from Russia in the 1880’s. While on visit to the Levant in 1901 he was seized with the Mediterranean fever, and died at age 42, under pathetic circumstances in the International Hospital at Naples, France. He was a man of extraordinary personality and influence both in social circles and at the pulpit. A volume of his prose and verse, edited by his wife, appeared soon after his death, entitled ‘Thoughts for Every-day Living’, 1901. Dr. Babock’s writings show strength, delicacy of thought, and great originality. He is the author of the hymn ‘This is My Father’s World’, among others. A large stained-glass window was installed in 1905 at Brown Memorial Presbyterian Church in his memory. His book Letters from Egypt and Palestine was also produced in 1902 posthumously with his wife as his editor.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * House by the Side of the Road

By Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911) There are hermit souls that live withdrawn

In the place of their self-content; There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,

In a fellow-less firmament; There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths

Where highways never ran- But let me live by the side of the road

And be a friend to man. Let me live in a house by the side of the road

Where the race of men go by-

The men who are good and the men who are bad As good and as bad as I.

I would not sit in the scorner's seat Nor hurl the cynic's ban-

Let me live in a house by the side of the road And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road By the side of the highway of life,

The men who press with the ardor of hope, The men who are faint with the strife,

But I turn not away from their smiles and tears, Both parts of an infinite plan-

Let me live in a house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man. I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,

And mountains of wearisome height; That the road passes on through the long afternoon

And stretches away to the night. And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice

And weep with the strangers that moan, Nor live in my house by the side of the road

Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road, Where the race of men go by-

They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong, Wise, foolish - so am I.

Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat, Or hurl the cynic's ban?

Let me live in my house by the side of the road And be a friend to man.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911) was a poet, journalist, and humorist, best known for his inspirational poem above. Born in a rural New England farm he was 4 years old when his mother died, and had to mature quickly to do his share of the chores. He graduated from Brown University in 1882. He was owner and editor of the Lynn Massachusetts Saturday Union newspaper who produced a humorous column once a week. He became skilled at producing his own homespun verse and poetry that soon was being published across the country. In 1891 he moved to Boston, and wrote for the Boston Globe and the Christian Science Monitor until his death in 1911.


* * * * * * * * * * * * A Child in the Garden

- Henry Van Dyke When to the garden of untroubled thought

I came of late, and saw the open door, And wished again to enter, and explore

The sweet, wild ways with stainless bloom inwrought, And bowers of innocence with beauty fraught, It seemed some purer voice must speak before

I dared to tread that garden loved of yore, That Eden lost unknown and found unsought.

Then just within the gate I saw a child, --

A stranger-child, yet to my heart most dear; He held his hands to me, and softly smiled With eyes that knew no shade of sin or fear:

"Come in," he said, "and play awhile with me;"

"I am the little child you used to be."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Henry Jackson Van Dyke (1852-1933) was an American author, educator, and clergyman who was born in 1852 in Germantown, Pennsylvania. He graduated from Princeton University in 1873 and from Princeton Theological Seminary in 1877. After that he served as a professor of English literature at Princeton, and as a lecturer at the University of Paris. He became Minister to the Netherlands and Luxembourg by appointment of President Wilson in 1913. He was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters and received many other honors. He chaired the committee that wrote the first Presbyterian liturgy in 1906. Among his popular writings are The Other Wise Man (1896); The First Christmas Tree (1897), The Blue Flower (1902), Katrina’s Sundial (poem); and others.

* * * * * * * * * * Mercy

- William Shakespeare (1564-1616) The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 'T is mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly

power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That in the course of justice none of us

Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.

* * * * * * * * *

William Shakespeare (1564-1616) was an English poet and playwright widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language. Often called England’s national poet, and ‘the Bard of Avon’, his works consisted of 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and several other smaller poems. He was born and raised in Stratford-upon-Avon, married Anne Hathaway at age 18, and had three children. He had a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part ownership in the King’s Men acting company. He retired to Stratford about 1613, and wrote most of his works between 1589-1613. There is some speculation about his physical appearance, sexuality, and religious beliefs.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“If” by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise; If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with triumph and disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn out tools; If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on'; If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -

Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Joseph Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) was an English short-story writer, poet, and novelist who was born in Bombay, in British India, and was chiefly remembered for his celebration of British imperialism, his tales and poems of British soldiers in India, his tale for children. Born in 1865 of parents who met and courted near Rudyard Lake, Staffordshire, England, he was educated at home and then in public schools in England, living with friends of his parents. He later went to the Mayo College of Art and became editor of a small newspaper. After some time he began writing and publishing his poetry and several works of fiction: ‘The Jungle Book’, ‘Kim’, The Man Who Would Be King’, and also many poems, including ‘Mandalay’, ‘Gunga Din’ and ‘If’ (above). He is regarded as ‘a major innovator in the art of the short story’. His children’s books are enduring classics of literature, and he was also a one of the most popular writers in English prose and verse in the late 19th and 20th centuries. It was said of him that he seemed to be ‘the most complete man of genius that one has ever known’. In 1907 he was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, making him the first English language writer to receive the prize, and also the youngest recipient. He was offered a Knighthood, but declined. He died in 1936 of an ulcer, was cremated. After his wife died in 1939, his only surviving daughter donated much of his property to museums and charitable foundations.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Nobility

-Alice Cary True worth is in being, not seeming,—

In doing, each day that goes by, Some little good—not in dreaming Of great things to do by and by.

For whatever men say in their blindness, And spite of the fancies of youth, There’s nothing so kingly as kindness,

And nothing so royal as truth. We get back our mete as we measure—

We cannot do wrong and feel right, Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure,

For justice avenges each slight. The air for the wing of the sparrow, The bush for the robin and wren, But always the path that is narrow

And straight, for the children of men.

‘Tis not in the pages of story The heart of its ills to beguile,

Though he who makes courtship to glory Gives all that he hath for her smile.

For when from her heights he has won her, Alas! It is only to prove

That nothing’s so sacred as honor, And nothing so loyal as love!

We cannot make bargains for blisses, Nor catch them like fishes in nets;

And sometimes the thing our life misses Helps more than the thing which it gets.

For good lieth not in pursuing, Nor gaining of great nor of small, But just in the doing, and doing As we would be done by, is all.

Through envy, through malice, through hating,

Against the world, ,early and late. No jot of our courage abating Our part is to work and to wait

And slight is the sting of his trouble Whose winnings are less than his worth.

For he who is honest is noble Whatever his fortunes or birth. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Alice Carey (1820-1871) was an American poet who was born and raised on a farm in Mount Healthy, Ohio, near Cincinnati, educated by her mother and older sister; her sister Phoebe Cary, gained a national reputation. Raised with Methodist, Presbyterian, and Congregationalist views, their mother died when Alice was 17, and Phoebe 13, they began writing verses, which were printed in newspapers. Their stepmother was unsympathetic towards their literary aspirations, they were expected to labor all day, and study and write when the day’s work was finished. They were often refused the use of candles at night. Alice’s first poem ‘The Child of Sorrow’ reflects these days. In 1850 the sisters moved to New York City where their writing made them famous. After writing many poems, books, and other literary articles, she died in 1871 at age 51. She is buried next to her sister in Brooklyn, New York.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * A Psalm of Life - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream ! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou art, to dust returnest, was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment,

and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act,— act in the living Present !

Heart within, and God o'erhead ! Lives of great men all remind us. We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time; Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate; Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) was an American poet and educator whose works include “Paul Revere’s Ride”, “The Song of Hiawatha”, and ‘Evangeline’, ‘The Divine Comedy’, and more. He was born in Portland, Maine, and then part of Massachusetts, and studies at Bowdoin College and later at Harvard College. His first major poetry collections were Voices of the Night and Ballads and Other Poems. Longfellow retired from teaching in 1854 to focus on his writing, living the remainder of his life in Cambridge, Massachusetts. His first wife, Mary Potter, died in 1835 after a miscarriage. His second wife, Frances Appleton, died in 1861 after sustaining burns from her dress catching fire.


* * * * * * * * * *

Life Sculpture - George Washington Doane (1799-1859)

Chisel in hand stood a sculptor boy With his marble block before him,

And his eyes lit up with a smile of joy, As an angel-dream passed o'er him.

He carved the dream on that shapeless stone, With many a sharp incision;

With heaven's own light the sculpture shone, -- He'd caught that angel-vision.

Children of life are we, as we stand With our lives uncarved before us,

Waiting the hour when, at God's command, Our life-dream shall pass o'er us.

If we carve it then on the yielding stone, With many a sharp incision,

Its heavenly beauty shall be our own, -- Our lives, that angel-vision.

* * * * * * * * * * * George Washington Doane (1799-1859) was an American churchman, educator, minister, mission organizer, and hymn writer. studied hard as a boy showing conviction and courage, while preparing for college, he was beaten for refusing to memorize a catechism which was not the official saying of his church, he stood firm inspite of the beating, and other students joined him, and soon they had won the privilege to study from the text they preferred. After graduating from Union College, New York in 1818, he entered the ministry, and steadily rose through the ranks. He acted as rector of St. Mary’s Church, Burlington, N.J. where he established a school for girls, St. Mary’s Hall, and Burlington College for boys. In 1832 he became a Bishop, and through his ministrations his church grew steadily and strongly. He became ill with typhoid fever, and recovered with weakness and longing for rest. His final statement was ‘I die in the faith of the Son of God, and in the confidence of his one Catholic and Apostolic Church. I have no merit- no many has – but my trust is in the Mercy of Jesus.” Among the 214 hymns he wrote are the well known hymn ‘Ancient of Days’, ‘Sculpture’, and ‘Robin Redbreast’ below.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Everything’s Roses - Bill Carr

There were times in the past When my faith was quite low

And the struggle seemed almost in vain, But I managed to rise

And get up from the fall, Brush off, and get started again.

I thought I could fight All life’s battles alone,

But I found out that wasn’t the way, I ask for God’s help

And he answered my call, And everything’s roses today.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * *

Keep A-Goin’ - Frank Lebby Stanton (1857-1927)

If you strike a thorn or rose, Keep a-goin'! If it hails or if it snows, Keep a-goin'!

'Taint no use to sit an' whine When the fish ain't on your line;

Bait your hook an' keep a-tryin'- Keep a-goin'! When the weather kills your crop, Keep a-goin'! Though 'tis work to reach the top, Keep a-goin'!

S'pose you're out o' ev'ry dime, Gittin' broke ain't any crime;

Tell the world you're feelin' prime- Keep a-goin'! When it looks like all is up, Keep a-goin'!

Drain the sweetness from the cup, Keep a-goin'! See the wild birds on the wing, Hear the bells that sweetly ring,

When you feel like singin', sing- Keep a-goin'! * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Frank L. Stanton (1857-1972) was an American lyricist. He was born on Kiaweh Island, South Carolina, and was influenced by the hymns of Isaac Watts and Charles Wesley. He was reared in the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. After starting school in Savannah, Georgia, Frank L. Stanton found his education cut off by the American Civil War. At age 12 he became apprenticed to work as a printer, a position which allowed him to enter the newspaper business. In 1887 he met Leone Josey while he was working for the Smithville News, they married and, in 1888, moved to Rome, Georgia, where Frank has received an offer from John Temple Graves to serve as night editor for the Rome Tribune. With encouragement from Joel Harris in 1889 he switched to Atlanta Constitution, and began to focus more on writing editorials and columns, a role he filled until then until his death in 1927. His writings include 171 items in 309 publications in 3 languages and 1,483 library holdings. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Today - unknown

With every rising of the sun think of your life as just begun. The past has cancelled and buried deep all yesterday,

There let them sleep. Concern yourself with but today; Grasp it, and teach it to obey.

You and Today! O soul sublime, and the great heritage of time, With God himself to find the twain, go forth, brave heart!

Attain! Attain! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Loving Thing - Edward A. Gleuggler

The child in me that often wished to wipe his brow and help him up each time he fell; now knows that wish is granted us each time we do for

any man the loving thing. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Civilization Is Learning to be Kind “Civilization is just a slow process of learning to be kind.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Invocation of Peace

- Fiona Macleod Deep peace I breathe into you.

Oh weariness here! Oh ache here! Deep peace, a soft white dove to you,

Deep peace, a quiet rain to you, Deep peace, an ebbing wave to you!

Deep peace, red wind of the east from you, Deep peace, grey wind of the west to you,

Deep peace, dark wind of the north to you, Deep peace, blue wind of the south to you!

Deep peace, pure red of the flame to you,

Deep peace, pure white of the moon to you, Deep peace, pure green of the grass to you, Deep peace, pure brown of the earth to you,

Deep peace, pure grey of the dew to you, Deep peace, pure blue of the sky to you! Deep peace of the running wave to you,

Deep peace of the flowing air to you, Deep peace of the quiet earth to you,

Deep peace of the sleeping stones to you!

Deep peace of the Yellow Shepherd to you, Deep peace of the Wandering Shepherdess to you,

Deep peace of the Flock of Stars to you, Deep peace from the Son of Peace to you, Deep peace from the Heart of Mary to you,

From Brigid of the Mantle, Deep peace, deep peace! And with the kindness of the Haughty Father, Peace!

In the name of the Three who are One, Peace! And by the will of the King of the Elements,

Peace! Peace!

From “Under the Dark Star”, by Fiona Macleod, 1895, after the old Gaelic manner * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Art Thou Lonely? Art thou lonely, Oh my brother?

Share thy little with another! Stretch a hand to one unfriended,

And thy loneliness is ended. - John Oxenham * * * * * * * *

Thoughts Take Form Positive and negative thoughts rule the world for good or evil.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Optimists’ Club Creed

Promise yourself To be so strong that nothing can disturb your

peace of mind. To talk health, happiness, prosperity to every person you meet.

To make all your friends feel that there is something of value in them.

To look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true.

To think only the best, to work only for the best, and to expect the best.

To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others as you are about your own.

To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future.

To wear a cheerful countenance at all times and give every living creature you meet a smile.

To give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others. To be too large for worry, too noble for anger,

too strong for fear, and too happy to permit presence of trouble.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Thank God I’m Alive

- Ralph Spaulding Cushman Thank God I’m alive! That the skies are blue,

That a New Day dawns for me and for you. The sunlight glistens, on field and on tree,

And the house wren sings to his mate and to me, The whole world glows with a heavenly glee.

I know there are heartache, a world full of strife But thank God, O thank God, thank God just for life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Press Onward

Keep a brave spirit, and never despair – Hope brings you messages through the keen air -

Good is victorious - God is everywhere. Grand are the battles, which you have to fight,

Be not downhearted, but valiant for right. Hope and press forward, your face to the Light.

* * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Secret

-Ralph Spaulding Cushman I met God in the morning when

the day was at its best, And his presence came like sunrise,

like a glory in my breast. All day long the Presence lingered,

all day long he stayed with me, And we sailed in perfect calmness

o’er a very troubled sea. Other ships were blown and battered,

other ships were sore distressed, But the winds that seemed to drive them

brought to us a peace and rest. Then I thought of other mornings,

with a keen remorse of mind, When I too had loosed the moorings,

with the Presence left behind. So I think I know the secret,

learned from many a troubled way: You must seek him in the morning

if you want him through the day!

* * * * * * * * * * * Bishop Ralph Spaulding Cushman, (1879-1960) was born at Pultney, Vermont in 1879, was educated at a private academy, and did graduate study work at Edinburgh and London in 1910, receiving his D.D. and LL.D. degrees from Wesleyan University and his Litt. D. from Hamline University. He married Maude Hammond in 1902, and they had two children, Mabel, and Robert. He was ordained a deacon in 1904, and elder in 1907 of the New England Congressional Church. He served in this capacity in Massachusetts, Connecticut, Michigan, and New York. An author, poet, he wrote more than 25 books on the subjects of evangelism. He died at Herkimer, N.Y. in 1960 and was buried at Manchester, Vermont.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Ships That Pass In The Night

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,

only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another, only a look

and a voice, then darkness again and a silence. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Gift of Gifts

- Ralph Spaulding Cushman Life is worth while, dear God, to those who know

This rich companionship with Thee; Each morning as the day flames forth,

Each evening in a sweet tranquility. Ten million, million, gifts spring from Thy hand,

0f up-flung mountains, evening skies, a tree! Yet never one can quite compare with this-

The giving of Thyself to me! * * * * * * * * * * *

You Can If You Believe Anything that the mind can believe it can achieve.

* * * * * * * * * * My Baby Girl

My beautiful baby girl playing outside on the lawn without a care in the world... but soon you will be gone. When you were born I couldn't

believe how much you looked like me, an image so clear none could deny and all could plainly see. My little one won't stay at home forever in the yard, a time will come when I'll let go and I know it will be hard. I'm sure the happiness I've known will stay here in my heart long after

you are fully grown, and we are far apart. But no matter where you go in this wide and wondrous world, I'll always treasure you, my dear, as my

special baby girl. (Proverbs 22:61) * * * * * * * * * * *

Precious and Wonderful When I hold my precious baby, I am filled with joy and wonder.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Stillborn - unknown

Although you did not know him and he took no living breath, You’ll see his eyes a-smiling one day. There is no death. Although your arms feel empty and your heart is torn with pain, Yet he is yours, and someday his presence you will gain.

Hi tiny, little spirit was so sweet and true, That he was needed over there to bless those people, too.

At times we do not understand why things like this must be, But surely you will know his love through all eternity.

* * * * * * * * * * * * He lives - unknown

He lives! Although we cannot and may not bridge the span Between our worlds, we know that this must be God’s plan.

Perhaps He has a mission to fulfill over there, That those souls may understand the truth, that they may share

The knowledge and the wisdom he gained while in this life, With your help, your faith and prayers, his family and sweet wife.

Surely he is welcome there with love and joyful tears, May his testimony true sustain you through the years.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * *

Be Calm My Soul - Jo Ann Carlson

Be calm my soul tho’ all around Nations may fail thrones tumble down E’en the midst of life’s troubled sea –

Have faith in God and know he keep thee. Be calm my soul – be firm and stand fast! He’ll keep thee now – He has in the past.

He rules the wind – and calms the great sea; Be calm my soul – God will keep thee.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Enjoy Life

- Clay Harrison Enjoy life, and don't complain because God sends a little rain.

The rain will pass and you will see rainbows where clouds used to be.

Enjoy life; there is much to do, for every day brings something new.

The grass is always sweet and green when you rise above the dull routine.

Enjoy life each day that you live, for blessings come to those who give.

Share the joy that's in your soul with those who have no worthy goal.

Enjoy life both night and day, and watch your sorrows fade away.

If you would be a happy man... you'll succeed when you think you can!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Trust

- Betsey Kline Sure, it takes a lot of courage To put things in god’s hands To give ourselves completely

Our lives our hopes our plans. To follow where he leads us and

Make his will our own, But all it takes is foolishness,

To go the way alone. We shall steer safely through every storm,

So long as our heart is right, Our intention fervent,

Our courage steadfast; And our trust fixed on God.

* * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Life’s Little Blessings - Glenda Fulton Davis

So many of life’s little blessings today Will come unnoticed and slip away

When we continue to grumble and fuss Ignoring the good God, who gave them to us. How much more happy our lives would be

If instead of complaining, We’d just stop the see the numerous blessings

He gives us each day Which lightens our burden and brightens our way.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Try To Be Agreeable

Try to be agreeable to those around you. Use the words ‘I will’ and ‘I can’, not, ‘I won’t’ (unless they want you to do something bad).

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Say Only the Good

If you can’t say anything good don’t say anything at all. * * * * * * * * * * *

Walk A Mile or Two If someone wants you to walk a mile with them – walk two.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The Happiest Heart -Marion Shoeberlein

Oh happy the hearts that beat with love, who have in others made

The joy of living; but sometime Their gladness, too, must fade.

How happy the hearts of children gay Who in each hour find

Some sweetness, but they too Must leave these days behind.

But oh, the happiest heart, I know beats in some quiet breast

That finds the quiet day light sweet, And leave to God the Rest.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * For My Friend - Author Unknown

May I give thanks for your life, for your gift of life to me,

And for being able to share your life, with others for the gift of knowingly,

As well as gifts unrecognized but necessary, for our wellbeing,

and for the sense of direction, And the desire to achieve,

for disabilities to over come, For the rest and recreation,

for the ability to love, and be loved, For wisdom and understanding, and then the need for learning,

For the feelings of nearness of the one For whom all goodness comes,

and to whom one day we will return together again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Rainbow of Happiness

- Sister Mary Gemma Brunke, S.C.

Though the day may be rainy and the sky may be gray, Though the sun may be hidden by dark clouds today,

Believe it is shining though hidden from view, Believe there’s no cloud that the sun can’t pierce through.

Though your hope may be waning and the day may be drear, Believe that God loves you, that to Him you are dear;

Rejoice in life’s trials for God’s love will pierce through In a rainbow of happiness for you and me too.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Happiness of Life Made of Minutes

The happiness of life is made up of minute fractions. A kiss or smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment. - Samuel Taylor Coloridge

* * * * * * * * * * * * A Good Creed

- Author unknown If any little word of ours can make one life the brighter; If any little song of ours can make one heart the lighter;

God help us speak that little word and take our bit of singing, And drop it in some lonely vale to set the echoes ringing.

If any little love of ours can make one life the sweeter; If any little care of ours can make one step the fleeter;

If any little help may ease the burden of another;

God give us love and care and strength to help along each other. If any little thought of ours can make one life the stronger; If any cheery smile of ours can make its brightness longer;

Then let us speak that thought today, with tender eyes aglowing, So God may grant some weary one shall reap from our glad sowing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Twelve Rules for Happiness

-Glenville Kleiser 1. Live a simple life. Make simplicity the keynote of your daily plans.

Simple things are best. 2. Spend less than you earn. It may be difficult, but it pays large

dividends in contentment. 3. Think constructively. Store your mind with useful thoughts.

4. Cultivate a yielding disposition and resist the common tendency to want things your own way.

5. Be grateful. Begin the day with gratitude for your opportunities and blessings.

6. Rule your moods. Cultivate a mental attitude of peace and good will. 7. Give generously. There is no greater joy in life than to render

happiness to others by means of intelligent giving. 8. Work with right motives. The highest purpose of your life should be to

grow in spiritual grace and power. 9. Be interested in others. Divert your mind from self-centeredness.

10. Live one day at a time. Concentrate on your immediate task. Make the most of today.

11. Have a hobby. Cultivate an avocation to which you can turn for diversion and relaxation.

12. Keep close to God. True and enduring happiness depends primarily upon close alliance with Him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Your House of Happiness

- Mrs. B.Y. Williams Take what God gives, O heart of mine,

And build your house of happiness. Perchance some have been given more;

But many have been given less. The treasure lying at your feet.

Whose value you but faintly guess, Another builder, looking on,

Would barter heaven to posses. Have you found work that you can do?

Is there a heart that loves you best? Is there a spot somewhere called home

Where, spent and worn, your soul may rest? A friendly tree? A book? A song?

A dog that loves your hand's cares? A store of health to meet life's needs? Oh, build your house of happiness!

Trust not tomorrow's dawn to bring the dreamed-of joy for which you wait;

You have enough of pleasure things to house your soul in goodly state; Tomorrow, time's relentless stream may bear what now you have away; Take what God gives, O heart, and

build your house of happiness today! * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * The Things That Are More Excellent

- William Watson As we wax older on this earth,

‘till many a toy that charmed us seems Emptied of beauty, stripped of worth,

and mean as dust and dead as dreams,-- For gauds that perished, shows that passed,

some recompense the Fates have sent: Thrice lovelier shine the things that last,

the things that are more excellent.

Tired of the Senate's barren brawl, an hour with silence we prefer, Where statelier rise the woods than all yon towers of talk at Westminster.

Let this man prate and that man plot, on fame or place or title bent: The votes of veering crowds are not the things that are more excellent.

Shall we perturb and vex our soul for "wrongs" which no true freedom mar, Which no man's upright walk control, and from no guiltless deed debar?

What odds though tonguesters heal, or leave unhealed,

the grievance they invent? To things, not phantoms, let us cleave- the things that are more excellent.

Naught nobler is, than to be free: the stars of heaven are free because in amplitude of liberty their joy is to obey the laws.

From servitude to freedom's name free thou thy mind in bondage pent; depose the fetish, and proclaim the things that are more

excellent. And in appropriate dust be hurled that dull, punctilious god, whom they that call their tiny clan the world, serve

and obsequiously obey: Who con their ritual of Routine, with minds to one dead likeness blent, And never ev'n in dreams have seen the things that are more excellent.

To dress, to call, to dine, to break no canon of the social code,

The little laws that lacqueys make, the futile decalogue of Mode,-- How many a soul for these things lives, with pious passion, grave

intent! While Nature careless-handed gives the things that are more excellent. To hug the wealth ye cannot use, and lack the riches all may gain, O blind and wanting wit to choose, who house the chaff and burn the grain! And still doth life with starry towers lure to the

bright, divine ascent!- Be yours the things ye would: be ours the things that are more excellent. The grace of friendship - mind and

heart linked with their fellow heart and mind; The gains of science, gifts of art; the sense of oneness with our kind; The thirst to know and understand - a large and liberal discontent;

These are the goods in life's rich hand, the things that are more excellent. In faultless rhythm the ocean rolls, a rapturous silence

thrills the skies; And on this earth are lovely souls, that softly look with aidful eyes. Though dark, O God, Thy course and track, I

think Thou must at least have meant that naught which lives should wholly lack the things that are more excellent.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * *

The Life Beautiful - Lorena Farmer Cowdrey

Exquisitely lovely...! Like a flowering springtime tree...! All life’s branches reaching out... in perfect symmetry...!

Taken in entirely, or any chosen part, The ultimate example of a master florist’s art....! All facets of it’s pattern are precisely set in line ...

It would seem that any movement would disfigure the design... Change comes, but not in beauty, beauty holds change in its scope, And only rearranges... Like a moved kaleidoscope.... Maturing only lengthens patterns set within the seed, And

growing ever strengthens the life beautiful indeed....!!! * * * * * * * * * * * *

Faith is Like a Pair of Glasses - Sister Mary Gemma Brunke, S. C.

“Faith is like a pair of glasses I bring here and there with me. The thrilling thing about them is the wondrous things I see. When life grows dark and dismal I don my magic glasses;

The perspective soon grows fine. If I slip on this treasure I can toil with greater ease. Troubles and afflictions at length begin to please;

The world become all rosy and as cheery as can be; I surely feel most grateful for the faith God gave to me.

Perhaps, you once had glasses, but by faith no longer life, Friend, ask God for his pardon, he is kind and will forgive;

O cherish this dear treasure till you meet God up above then present faith as an offering with the gifts of hope and love.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Do Not Lose Faith

- Harold F. Mohn Do not lose hope nor faith my friend,

When you are in distress... For disappointments will be yours,

The same as happiness. This life on earth cannot be like

A smooth and peaceful sea, The ups and downs are sure to come

And here will always be. Do not despair or e'er lose sight

Of what you hope to gain... With faith in God and in yourself

Your goal you will attain. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * The Joy of Unselfish Giving

- Helen Steiner Rice Time is not measured by the years that you live

But by the deeds that you do and the joy that you give- And each day as it comes brings a chance to each one

To love to the fullest, leaving nothing undone That would brighten the life or lighten the load

Of some weary traveler lost on Life's Road- So what does it matter how long we may live

If as long as we live we unselfishly give. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dedication - unknown

Grant me this; that I may always be humble and prayerful unto thee;

That I may guide these little tots of mine in ways of truth, I’d not pine for worldly good,

or fortune’s kiss endowing me with power, only this; That I may serve another in his need, and know contentment,

and sow the seed of happiness into a world grown sad, Giving of myself to make another glad;

only this, that perhaps through me, A part of the world returns to thee.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Zippity Do Dah

- Stevie Brock Zippity doo dah, Zippity aye,

My oh my what a wonderful day! Plenty of sunshine coming my way,

Zippity doo dah, Zippity aye. Mister blue bird's on my shoulder;

it's the truth, it's actual, everything's satisfactual! Zippity doo dah, zippity aye, zippity doo dah,

zippity aye! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Reigns Of God - Delores Karides

A bird flies free, his life unchained, and no one like to feel restrained,

But man is not a wild thing, an untamed beast, a bird on wing.

Control we must our every act, and curb our tongues and speak with tact. But God holds loose the reigns on man

and let’s us do the best we can, So if you try from day of birth to

live your life upon this earth, As God ordains, in all you do,

then God will place His trust in you. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Leisure

What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare?—

No time to stand beneath the boughs, And stare as long as sheep and cows: No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass: No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night: No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance: No time to wait till her mouth can Enrich that smile her eyes began?

A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * There’s Always Something Left

- Mary Lavinia Silvia When the world has crashed about your feet,

And the skies are sombre grey, When you feel that life is over And there's nothing left to say,

Turn your eyes toward the Master He will always see you through,

He will open up new vistas, That He's keeping just for you.

When your soul is most despondent And of all you are bereft

That's the time to trust the master, For there's always something left.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

No Friend Like Music - Daniel Whitehead Hicky

There is no whispering of any friend No solace that can touch the quivering heart

In that lone hour when a sudden end Has captured laughter and there falls apart

A rainbow that has bridged a distant hill When roses shatter on the stem, and dark

Crowds out the candle's shimmering flame and still

The night creeps on with neither touch nor spark.

No friend like music when the last word's spoken

And every pleading is a plea in vain No friend like music when the heart is broken

To mend its wings and give it flight again No friend like music, breaking chains and bars

To let the soul march with the quiet stars. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * You’ll Never Walk Alone

Oscar Hammerstein, Richard Rogers When you walk through a storm,

Hold your head up high, And don't be afraid of the dark,

At the end of the storm is a golden sky. And the sweet silver song of a lark.

Walk on through the wind, Walk on through the rain,

Tho' your dreams be tossed and blown, Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart

And you'll never walk alone. You'll never walk alone.

Writer: Benjamin Weisman, Fred Karger, and Sid Wayne Lyrics: Warner Chappel Music, Inc.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * The House of Pride

- William J. Dawson I lived with Pride; the house was hung with tapestries of rich designs.

Of many houses, this among them all was richest, and 'twas mine. But in the chambers burned no fire, tho' all the furniture was gold, I sickened of fulfilled desire, the House of Pride was very cold – I lived with Knowledge; very high her house rose on a mountain's side. I watched the stars roll through the sky; I read the scroll of

Time flung wide. But in that house, austere and bare, no children played, no laughter clear was heard, no voice of mirth was there,

the House was high but very drear. I lived with Love; all she possest was but a tent beside a stream. She warmed my cold hands in her breast, she wove around my sleep a dream. And

One there was with face divine who softly came, when day was spent, And turned our water into wine, and made our life a sacrament.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * My Wage

- Jessie B. Rittenhouse I bargained with Life for a penny,

And Life would pay no more, However I begged at evening

When I counted my scanty store; For Life is a just employer, He gives you what you ask,

But once you have set the wages, Why, you must bear the task. I worked for a menial's hire,

Only to learn, dismayed, That any wage I had asked of Life,

Life would have paid. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Good Food Counts

It’s not the food in your life, but the life in your food that counts.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Good Food

The Food I share with others is the food that nourishes me. * * * * * * * * * * *

I Can Do It I am the Master of my Tale - I am the Captain of my Soul.

* * * * * * * * * * * Joy and Sorrow - Edna Fontaine

For your life to come to blossom you must feel both joy and pain Flowers can't burst forth in color with just sunshine and no rain.

We would all feel quite dis-heartened if our skies were always gray, So God makes His light shine on us, and gives us each sunny days.

If you learn to please Him always in all things we say and do, You’ll accept the pain and sorrow, then the Joy will come to you.

* * * * * * * * * * * A Friend’s Greeting

-Edgar A. Guest I'd like to be the sort of friend that you have been to me; I'd like to be the help that you've been always glad to be; I'd like to mean as much to you each minute of the day

As you have meant, old friend of mine, to me along the way. I'd like to do the big things and the splendid things for you,

To brush the gray from out your skies and leave them only blue; I'd like to give you back the joy that you have given me, Yet that were wishing you a need I hope will never be;

I'd like to make you feel as rich as I, who travel on Undaunted in the darkest hours with you to lean upon. I'm wishing at this Christmas time that I could but repay

A portion of the gladness that you've strewn along my way; And could I have one wish this year, this only would it be: I'd like to be the sort of friend that you have been to me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Trust - Edward Cane

I know not what the future holds of good or ill for me and mine, I only know that God enfolds me in his loving arms divine.

So I shall walk the earth in trust that He who notes the sparrow’s fall will help me bear whate’er I must and lend an ear whene’er I call.

It matters not if dreams dissolve like mists beneath the morning sun, For swiftly as the worlds revolve so swiftly will life’s race be run.

It matters not if hopes depart, or life be pressed with toil and care. If love divine shall fill my heart and all be sanctified with prayer.

Then let me learn submission sweet in every thought, in each desire, And humbly lay at his dear feet a heart aglow with heavenly fire.

* * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * Myself

- by Edgar Guest I have to live with myself and so

I want to be fit for myself to know. I want to be able as days go by,

always to look myself straight in the eye; I don't want to stand with the setting sun

and hate myself for the things I have done. I don't want to keep on a closet shelf

a lot of secrets about myself and fool myself as I come and go

into thinking no one else will ever know the kind of person I really am.

I don't want to dress up myself in sham. I want to go out with my head erect I want to deserve all men's respect;

but here in the struggle for fame and wealth

I want to be able to like myself. I don't want to look at myself and know that I am bluster and bluff and empty show.

I never can hide myself from me; I see what others may never see;

I know what others may never know, I never can fool myself and so, whatever happens I want to be

self respecting and conscience free. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Modern Philosophy A Modern Collection - Anonomous

Did it ever occur to you that a man’s life is full of crosses and temptation?

He comes into this world without his consent, and goes out against his will, and the trip is exceedingly rocky.

The rule of contraries is one of the important features of the trip. When he is little, the big girls kiss him; when he is big, the little girls kiss him;

If he is poor, he is a bad manager of money; if he is rich, he is dishonest;

If he needs credit, he can’t get it, if he is prosperous, everyone wants to do him a favor.

If he is in politics, it is for graft, and if he is out of politics, he is no good for his country.

If he doesn’t give to charity, he is a tightwad; if he does, it is for show.

If he is actively religious, he is a hypocrite, if he takes no part in religion, he is a hardened sinner.

If he shows affection, he is a soft specimen, if he cares for no one, he is cold-blooded.

If he dies young, there was a great future before him, if he lives to an old age, he missed his calling.

The road is a rocky one, but men love to travel it. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * *

Edelweiss - Sound of Music, by Rodgers & Hammerstein

Edelweiss, edelweiss, Ev'ry morning you greet me

Small and white, Clean and bright, You look happy to meet me (Chorus) Blossom of snow May you bloom and grow

Bloom and grow forever Edelweiss, edelweiss

Bless my homeland forever Small and white

Clean and bright You look happy to meet me

(Chorus) * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Climb Every Mountain - Music by Rodgers and Hammerstein

Climb every mountain, search high and low Follow every byway, every path you know. Climb every mountain, ford every stream,

Follow every rainbow, 'til you find your dream! A dream that will need all the love you can give, Every day of your life for as long as you live. Climb every mountain, ford every stream,

Follow every rainbow, 'til you find your dream! * * * * * * * * * * * *

Rodgers & Hammerstein Richard Rodgers (1902-1979) and Oscar Hammerstein II (1895-1960) were a well-known American songwriting duo, usually referred to as Rodgers and Hammerstein. Together they changed the face of American musical theater by integrating drama, music and dance as never before. Their 17-year partnership began in 1943 with Oklahoma! Rodgers began his career as a freshman student at Columbia College, where he composed the music for a Varsity Show of 1920, with lyrics provided by a former Columbia journalism student named Lorenz Hart. The success of their show led to a 20-year partnership. Hart’s deteriorating health led to the breakup of their partnership in 1940. Hammerstein also participated in the Varsity Show during his undergraduate years at Columbia College. After a year at Law School, he went on to compose several operettas. They began their partnership in 1943, after which they created a string of popular Broadway musicals in the 1940’s and 1960’s during what is considered the golden age of the medium. Rodgers wrote the music, and Hammerstein the lyrics of five well known shows: Oklahoma!, Carousel, South Pacific, The King and I, and the Sound of Music. Together they earned many accolades 34 Tony Awards, 15 Academy Awards, the Pulitzer Prize, and two Grammys. Other compositions are State Fair, Cinderella, Flower Drum Song, A Connecticut Yankee, Babes In Arms, The Boys from Syracuse, Pal Joey, By Jupiter, Rose-Marie, The Desert Song, The New Moon, Sunny, Show Boat, Sweet Adeline, Very Warm for May, All Things You Are, South Moon, South Pacific, Allegro, Me & Juliet, Pipe Dream, A Grand Night for Singing, American Musical Theatre, Kansas City, I Cain’t Say No, Many a New Day, It’s a Scandal! It’s a Outrage!, People Will Say We’re In Love, Lonely Room, The Farmer and the Cowman, All Er Nuthin’, If I Loved You, Soliloquy, You’ll Never Walk Alone, It Might as Well Be Spring, That’s for Me, A Fellow Needs a Girl, So Far, Some Enchanted Evening, There is Nothing Like a Dame, Bali Ha’i, I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair, I’m in Love with a Wonderful Guy, Happy Talk, You’ve Got to Be Carefully Taught, I Whistle a Happy Tune, Hello, Young Lovers, Getting to Know You, We Kiss in a Shadow, Something Wonderful, I Have Dreamed, No Other Love, I Enjoy Being a Girl, Maria, My Favorite Things, Do-Re-Mi, Sixteen Going on Seventeen, The Lonely Goatherd, No Way to Stop It and Edelweiss.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Things to Shun - Hi Hiller

(1) – Registration (of Guns) (2) Confestation

(3) Constration (Camps) (4) Execution (Murder)

(5) Condensation (of powdered bodies going up the chimney)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * The Tree

- John Frederick Freeman (1880-1929) Oh, like a tree, let me grow up to Thee!

And like a tree send down my roots to Thee. Let my leaves stir in each sigh of the air, My branches be lively and glad in Thee;

Each leaf a prayer, and green fire everywhere ... And all from Thee - the sap within the Tree.

And let Thy rain Fall--or as joy or pain So that I be yet unforgot of Thee.

Then shall I sing the new song of Thy Spring, Every leaf of me whispering love in Thee!

* * * * * * * * * * * * John Frederick Freeman (Jan. 1880 to Sept 1929) was an English poet who gave up a successful career in insurance to write full time. Born in London, he started out as an office boy at age 13, and continued in several different career paths before turning to full time writing. Described as being tall, gangling, ugly, solmn, and punctilious, by his biographer, he won the Hawthornden Prize for excellence in writing Poems 1909-1920. His poem Last Hours was set to music by Ivor Gurney.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Hope

- Edna Louise Sometimes it seems we're always chasing

rainbows way out there. Sudden bits of sunshine and the ever-evasive prayer.

Yet if we could only cherish the moments God has given,

Simple, happy pleasures-the honest joy of living. Perhaps we'd find the answer is for all of us to know: Chasing rainbows in the sky will only stop the flow. How sad is the illusion that "Joy" is way out there,

When if we silently listen we will find our peace in prayer.

* * * * * * * * * * * Philosophy

- John Kendrick Bangs If there’s no sun, I still can have the moon;

If there’s no moon, the stars my need suffice; And if these fail, I have my evening lamp; Or, lampless, there’s my trusty tallow dip;

And if the dip goes out, my couch remains, Where I may sleep and dream there’s light again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Who Would True Valor See

- John Bunyan Who would true valour see, let him come hither;

One here will constant be, come wind, come weather There’s no discouragement shall make him once relent

His first avowed intent to be a pilgrim. Whoso beset him round with dismal stories

Do but themselves confound; his strength the more is. No lion can him fright, he’ll with a giant fight,

He will have a right to be a pilgrim. Hobgoblin nor foul fiend can daunt his spirit,

He knows he at the end shall life inherit. Then fancies fly away, he’ll fear not what men say,

He’ll labor night and day to be a pilgrim. * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Rope “When a man reaches the end of the rope.

He comes to the big inning of God.” - Edward A. Glaegger * * * * * * * * * *

Lot in Life - Beverly Enderly Kimzey

If you become dissatisfied with your worldly lot You must be very careful for it could be, like as not...

That in your haste to change things you have made a lot of movement –

But when the dust has settled there has been no vast improvement!

And the problems that you would have left have simply tagged along...

Like the house upon a turtle’s back or lyrics to a song! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Keep Your Chin Up - Dixie Earl Bryant

When the road gets mighty rough - keep your chin up. Even though the going's tough - keep your chin up.

If you see you cannot make it Show the world that you can take it,

Though they take your heart and break it - keep your chin up. If the sunshine stays away - keep your chin up.

It will have to shine some day - keep your chin up. Though you feel no joy within greet each new day with a grin

In the end you're bound to win keep your chin up. * * * * * * * * * * * * Use What you Have

Use the things you have and God will bless you. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Be Content I have learned to be content in whatever situation I find myself

in. (Phil. 4:11) * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

No Matter What - Ruth Scarbrough

Whether you’re happy or whether you’re sad, Having a good day, or one that’s all bad,

Whether you’re busy or asleep in your bed, In the midst of loved ones or lonely instead - Whether you’re rich or whether you’re poor,

If you have plenty, or hardships endure Whether you’re laughing or whether you’re crying;

If you’re in good health or nearing your dying - What a comforting feeling, what a reason for cheer Just

knowing your Savior will always be near. * * * * * * * * * * * * Hope for Tomorrow

- Connie J. Kirby There's hope for tomorrow, even when things look dim, There's hope for tomorrow

when you put your trust in Him. Through darkness surrounds you,

He’s always there, With arms that will hold you in His loving care. Just when you thought you had lost everything,

He’s right there beside you, with comfort to bring. And you’ll know with assurance,

He’ll never depart, For He’s dwelling inside you,

right there in your heart. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Peace - Garnett Ann Schultz

Peace in my heart - this is my prayer Quiet contentment, to have and to share

Each new tomorrow, blesses and real Each wondrous dawning, a daybreak ideal.

Peace in my home, this I would ask Sharing each burden, to lighten our task,

Laughter abundant, so much that’s worthwhile Faith, hope and courage -a bright happy smile.

Peace in this Country, this is my dream Peace we might cherish - joyous, supreme,

No more of hatred, no more of crime Peacefulness only, in heart and mind. Peace in our world, this is my prayer

With one God to guide us, and one God to care, All of us neighbors, then surely we’ll see

That peace is the answer to eternity. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Gratitude

- Henry Edwards Manning Gratitude consists in a watchful, minute attention to the particulars of our state, and to the multitude of god’s gifts, taken one by one.

It fills us with a consciousness that God loves and cares for us, even to the least event and smallest need of life. It is a blessed

thought, that from our childhood God has been laying His fatherly hands upon us, and always in benediction; that even the strokes of

His hands are blessings, and among the chiefest we have ever received. When this feeling is awakened, the heart beats with a

pulse of thankfulness. Every gift has its return of praise. It awakens an unceasing daily converse with our Father, - He

speaking to us by the descent of blessings, we to Him by the ascent of thanksgiving. And all our whole life is thereby drawn under the light of His countenance, and

is filled with a gladness, serenity, and peace which only thankful hearts can know. * * * * * * * * * *

Common Hearts - William wordsworth

“Man is dear to man; the poorest poor long for some moments in a weary life, when they can know and feel that that have been themselves the Father and the Giver; Out of some small blessings; has been kind to such as needed kindness,

for the single cause that we have all of us one common heart.” * * * * * * * * * * * *

Thinking Happiness - Robert E. Parley

Think of the things that make you happy, Not the things that make you sad;

Think of the fine and true in mankind, Not its sordid side and bad;

Think of the blessings that surround you, Not the ones that are denied;

Think of the virtues of your friendships, Not the weak and faulty side;

Think of the gains you've made in business, Not the losses you've incurred;

Think of the good of you that's spoken, Not some cruel, hostile word;

Think of the days of health and pleasure, Not the days of woe and pain;

Think of the days alive with sunshine, Not the dismal days of rain;

Think of the hopes that lie before you, Not the waste that lies behind;

Think of the treasures you have gathered, Not the ones you've failed to find;

Think of the service you may render, Not of serving self alone;

Think of the happiness of others, And in this you'll find your own!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Right Kind of People

Edwin Markham (1852-1940) Gone is the city, gone the day,

Yet still the story and the meaning stay: Once where a prophet in the palm shade basked

A traveler chanced at noon to rest his mules. "What sort of people may they be," he asked, "In this proud city on the plains o'erspread?"

"Well, friend, what sort of people whence you came?" "What sort?" the packman scowled;

"why, knaves and fools."

"You'll find the people here the same," the wise man said.

Another stranger in the dusk drew near, And pausing, cried, "What sort of people here

In your bright city where yon towers arise?" "Well, friend, what sort of people whence you came?"

"What sort?" the pilgrim smiled with lifted head; "Good, true, and wise."

"You'll find the people here the same," The wise man said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * I Have Found Such Joy

- Grace Noll Crowell I have found such joy in simple things;

A plain, clean room, a nut-brown loaf of bread, A cup of milk, a kettle as it sings,

The shelter of a roof above my head, And in a leaf-laced square along the floor,

Where yellow sunlight glimmers through the door. I have found such joy in things that fill

My quiet days: a curtain's blowing grace,

A potted plant upon my window sill, A rose, fresh-cut and placed within a vase;

A table cleared, a lamp beside a chair, And books I long have loved beside me there.

Oh, I have found such joys I wish I might Tell every woman who goes seeking far

For some elusive, feverish delight, That very close to home the great joys are:

The elemental things- old as the race, Yet never, through the ages, commonplace.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Serenity

- Reinhold Niebuhr God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;

The courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * The Purpose of Life

- Baltimore Sun. If you've never made another have a happier time in life,

If you've never helped a brother through his struggle and his strife; If you've never been a comfort to the weary and the worn,

Will you tell us what you're here for in this lovely land of morn ? If you've never made the pathway of some neighbor glow with, sun,

If you've never brought a bubble to some fellow heart -with fun; If you've never cheered a toiler that you tried to help a-long,

Will you tell us what you're here for in this lovely land of song? If you've never made a comrade feel the world a sweeter place Because you lived within it and had served it with your grace;

If you've never heard a woman or a little child proclaim A blessing on your bounty — you're a poor hand at the game.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * How to Forget

- Rebecca Foresman If you were busy being kind,

Before you knew it you would find You’d soon forget to think ’twas true That someone was unkind to you.

If you were busy being glad And cheering people who seem sad, Although your heart might ache a bit,

You’d soon forget to notice it.

If you were busy being good, And doing just the best you could,

You’d not have time to blame some man Who’s doing just the best he can.

If you were busy being true To what you know you ought to do,

You’d be so busy you’d forget The blunders of the folks you’ve met.

If you were busy being right, You’d find yourself too busy quite

To criticize your brother long, Because he’s busy being wrong.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Good Thoughts

- Katherine Maurine Haaff Good thoughts are the threads with

which we weave the web of life, The threads which build the strong

and fibrous cloth we know as character, And, like the patterns, that looms of modern science weaves,

Our lives can be no lovelier, no stronger, Than the treads from which our lives are made.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Today

- John Kendrick Bangs Today, whatever may annoy, the word for me is Joy,

just simple Joy. The Joy of life; The Joy of children and of wife;

The joy of children and of wife; the joy of bright, blue skies; The joy of rain; the glad surprise of twinkling stars

that shine at night; The joy of winged things upon their flight.

The joy of noonday, and the tried, true joyousness of eventide;

The joy of labor, and of mirth; the joy of air, and sea, and earth –

The countless joys that ever flow from Him whose vast beneficence doth dim

The boisterous light of day ,and lavish gifts divine upon our way.

Whatever there be of sorrow, I’ll put off ‘till tomorrow, And when Tomorrow comes, why then ‘twill be

Today and Joy again! * * * * * * * * * *

If I Knew You

- Joaquin Miller, born 1841 If I knew you, and you knew me, And both of us could clearly see, I'm sure that we would differ less,

And clasp our hands in friendliness ' If I knew you, and you knew me.

In men whom men pronounce as ill, I find so much of goodness still;

In men whom men pronounce divine, I find so much of sin and blot;

I hesitate to draw the line Between the two, when God has not.

* * * * * * * * * * * Waste Not

Waste not, want not. Use what God has given to you before you ask for more.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


Poems & Sayings about being in

Love & Marriage * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

To Husband and Wife - Author unknown

Preserve sacredly the privacies of your own house, your married state and your heart.

Let no father or mother or sister or brother ever presume to come between you or share

the joys or sorrows that belong to you two alone. With mutual help build your quiet world, not allowing your dearest earthly friends

to be the confidant of aught that concerns your domestic peace. Let moments of alienation,

if they occur, be healed at once. Never, no, never, speak of it outside; but to each other confess and

all will come out right. Never let the morrow’s sun still find you at variance.

Renew and renew your vow. It will do you good; and thereby your minds ‘will grow together contented in that love which is

stronger than death, and you will be truly one.

From “Heart Throbs.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * A Bell

- Author Unknown A bell isn’t a bell until you ring it, A song isn’t a song until you sing it, Love in your heart isn’t put there to stay Love isn’t love

until you give it away. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Love brings beauty That which is loved is always beautiful.

- Norwegian Proverb * * * * * * * * * * *

Love’s Plant Love’s Plant must be watered with tears and tended with

care. – Danish Proverb. * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * Fate

- Dante Gabriel Rossetti Two shall be born the whole wide world apart;

And speak in different tongues, and have no thought Each of the other’s being, and no heed;

And these o’er unknown seas to unknown lands Shall cross, escaping wreck, defying death,

And all unconsciously shape every act And bend each wandering step to this one end,— That, one day, out of darkness, they shall meet And read life’s meaning in each other’s eyes.

And two shall walk some narrow way of life So nearly side by side, that should one turn

Ever so little space to left or right They needs must stand acknowledged face to face.

And yet, with wistful eyes that never meet, With groping hands that never clasp, and lips

Calling in vain to ears that never hear, They seek each other all their weary days

And die unsatisfied—and this is Fate! * * * * * * * * * * *

Prayer Of Any Husband - Mazie V. Caruthers

Lord, may there be no moment in her life When she regrets that she became my wife,

And keep her dear eyes just a trifle blind To my defects, and to my failings kind!

Help me to do the utmost that I can To prove myself her measure of a man,

But, if I often fail as mortals may, Grant that she never sees my feet of clay!

And let her make allowance — now and then – That we are only grown-up boys, we men,

So, loving all our children, she will see, Sometimes, a remnant of the child in me!

Since years must bring to all their load of care, Let us together every burden bear,

And when Death beckons one its path along, May not the two of us be parted long!

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * We Have Lived And Loved Together

by Charles Jefferys We have lived and loved together

Through many changing years; We have shared each other's gladness

And wept each other's tears; I have known ne'er a sorrow

That was long unsoothed by thee; For thy smiles can make a summer

Where darkness else would be. Like the leaves that fall around us

In autumn's fading hours, Are the traitor's smiles, that darken When the cloud of sorrow lowers;

And through many such we've known, love, Too prone, alas, to range,

We both can speak of one love Which time can never change.

We have lived and loved together

Through many changing years, We have shared each other's gladness

And wept each other's tears. And let us hope the future, As the past has been will be:

I will share with thee my sorrows, And thou thy joys with me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Virginia

- Jackson O. Zumwalt As Adam had his special Eve, created for him alone; So God created just for me, a girl to be mine alone. A girl was born upon the earth, and set aside to be,

The special one that God sent down my loving bride to be. For each man placed upon the earth, a Partner, is placed too.

Blessed is that man who finds his own, for no other will ever do. When the barrier ‘tween heaven and earth does softly glide away, And I stand before the judgment seat on that great eventful day

And I am asked to name the one whom with I would spend eternity I’ll answer quickly with your name, for no other was meant to be.

* * * * * * * * * * Life Isn’t Long - Marie Dewegeli

Life isn’t long, a mother’s song, and then another’s smile; Then romping feet, and then the sweet remembrances awhile,

From dawn to day, from gold to gray, and then the twilight hours. Life is too brief to hunt for grief, for thorns among the flowers.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * A Virtuous Woman - Richard Dottery (2000)

A Virtuous Woman is more precious Than tons and tons of gold

She keeps her husband content And teaches her children the wisdom to grow old, She awakes in the morning adorning herself well

With modesty, humility, leading her family away from hell, With patience, kindness, love; Her cloak the whole day through. This

woman must be from above created man, just for you, to be your helpmate, partner

And mother of your children, too. This one's so very special

God sent her as a friend to you, So next time when you loose your patience

And she gets you all upset Remember that without her You could be alone still yet,

So Love her and treat her kindly With respect and patience, too

Cause God has sent her into your life To be a friend to you.

* * * * * * * * * * * Who Can Find A Virtuous Man?

Who can find a virtuous man? Where oh where can he be?

Search over land, over the ocean, the mountain and over the sea. Who can find a virtuous man?

Pure, holy, wise and true; And man of standard and integrity

who holds a righteous view. He treats his wife with great respect –

He gives his children no neglect

In troubled times he knows no fret; He causes his loved ones no regret He’s wise in handling all his debt He prays daily against the evil net.

Who can find a virtuous man? Where oh where can he be?

Search over land, over the ocean The mountain and over the sea.

Virtue is moral excellence, goodness. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Night Fall Charles Hanson Towne

I need so much the quiet of your love after the day’s loud strife; I need your calm all other things above after the stress of life, I crave the haven that in your dear heart lies, after all toil is done. I

need the star shine of your heavenly eyes, after the day’s great sun. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Virtuous Woman - Proverbs 31:1-31 (KJV)

“The words of king Lemuel, the prophecy that his mother taught him... Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life. She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands. She is like the merchants' ships; she bringeth her food from afar. She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens. She considereth a field, and buyeth it: with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard. She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms. She perceiveth that her merchandise is good: her candle goeth not out by night. 19 “She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff. She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy. She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet. She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple. 23 Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land. She maketh fine linen, and selleth it; and delivereth girdles unto the merchant. Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come. She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her

tongue is the law of kindness. 27 “She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all. 30 “Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.” * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sadness of the Heart Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of the countenance, the heart is

made better. * * * * * * * * * *

This Bud of Love, May Prove Beauteous “This bud of love, by summer’s ripening breath, may prove a beauteous lover when next we meet.” – William Shakespeare

* * * * * * * * * * * Inscription on a Sundial

Time flies, sunrise and shadows fall, Let time go by, love is forever, over all. Dewdrops sparkling on my thorn tree

Whispered ‘His Grace is sufficient.’ Love made them into a necklace of prayer.

Thank you, Lord” - Dorothy Purdy

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Virtuous Man

by Julie Davis and Barbara Firehock, based on Proverbs 31

10 Who can find a virtuous man? For his worth is far above chocolate. 11 The heart of his wife safely trusts him; So he will have no dalliance with bimbos. 12 He does her good and not evil - All the days of his life. 13 He seeks motor oil and socket wrenches, And willingly works with his hands. 14 He is like the personal shopper, He brings her food from Harrod's (or Fortnum's, in a pinch). 15 He also rises while it is yet night, And makes coffee for her household, And feedeth the cats. 16 He considers a stock and buys it; From his profits he invests in a mutual fund. 17 He girds himself with sensitivity, And learns the art of listening. 18 He perceives that his benefits are good, And his lamp does not go out by night, unless his Beloved desires his presence.

19 He stretches out his hands to the stove, And his hand holds the spatula. 20 He extends his hand to the poor, Yes, he reaches out his hands to the needy. [Can't improve on that one!] 21 He is not afraid of snow for his household, with batteries, a kerosene heater, and kitty litter for icy spots. 22 He takes an interest in the laundry, and yea, can wield an iron and the can of spray starch. And his socks match.

23 His wife is known in the congregation, when she sits on the Vestry. 24 He remembers birthdays and writeth his own cards, And helps with the Christmas shopping and wrapping. 25 Sensitivity and openness are his clothing; he shall rejoice in sessions with the marriage counselor. 26 He opens his mouth with sharing, And on his tongue is the law of Sharing His Feelings. 27 He watches not over-muchly of sporting events, And does not eat the potato chips of idleness. 28 His children rise up and call him Daddy, especially when his wife is down with the flu; His wife also, and she praises him: 29 "I can't believe you did the dishes all by yourself."

30 Charm is deceitful (just look at Bill Clinton) and hunkiness is passing, But a man who fears God, he shall be praised. 31 Give him a beer, And let his own works praise him in the women's group. 32 He developeth not a pot belly nor 5 o'clock shadow nor belcheth at the dinner table. He notices not his wife's varicose veins or cellulite. 33 He rejoices in his wife's spending sprees to keep herself lovely for him and falls at her feet to worship her. He obliges her not to adorn herself with cheap polyester.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Together

- Ludwig Lewisohn You and I by this lamp with these

few books shut out the world. Our knees touch almost in this little space.

But I am glad. I see your face. The silences are long, but each Hears the other without speech. And in this simple scene there is

The essence of all subtleties, the freedom from all fret and smart, The one sure sabbath of the heart.

The world–we cannot conquer it,

nor change the minds of fools one whit. Here, here alone do we create

Beauty and peace inviolate; Here night by night and hour by hour

we build a high impregnable tower whence may shine, now and again,

A light to light the feet of men when they see the rays thereof:

And this is marriage, this is love. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ludwig Lewisohn was an American Jewish critic, novelist, translator, writer, essayist and author. He wrote several autobiographies, and many poems. He is well known for his novel The Island Within. He authored several works on Judaica and Zionism. Born in Berlin, Germany, he immigrated in 1890 to the United States with his family, who settled in Charleston, South Carolina. His family converted to Christianity. In his youth he was an active Methodist, he graduated with honors from the College of Charleston, and when to Columbia University in 1902 to work on a doctorate degree. In 1904 he was told by his advisors that as a Jew he would never be hired to teach English literature at an American University. This bitter irony led Lewisohn to return to Judaism and he became an outspoken critic of American Jewish assimilation. In 1948, he was among the founding faculty members of Brandeis University, where he taught until his death. He died in 1955 at the age of 73

in Miami Beach, Florida. His works include Up Stream (1922), Israel (1925), The Case of Mr. Crump (1926), The Last Days of Shylock (1931), the Trumpet of Jubilee (1937), Rebirth (1935), The Broken Snare (1908), A Night in Alexandria (1909), The Modern Drama (1914), and Rebirth, A book of Modern Jewish Thought (1935).

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kisses

- Edmund V. Cooke Kisses kept are wasted; love is to be tasted.

There are some you love, I know; be not loathe to tell them so. Lips go dry and eyes grow wet - waiting to be warmly met. Keep them not in waiting yet; kisses kept are wasted.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Perfect Age

Our children are at that perfect age: Too old to cry at night and too young to borrow our car.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Memories are made of this

- Dean Martin Sweet, sweet memories you gave-a-me

You can’t beat the memories you gave-a-me Take one fresh and tender kiss Add one stolen night of bliss

One girl, one boy, some grief, some joy Memories are made of this.

Don’t forget a small moonbeam Fold in lightly with a dream

Your lips and mine, to sip the wine Memories are made of this.

Then add the wedding bells One house where lovers dwell Three little kids for the flavor. Stir carefully through the day

See how the flavor stays These are the dreams you’ll savor.

With His blessing from above Serve it generously with love

One man, one wife, one love for life Memories are made of this.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Dean Martin (1917-1995) was an American singer, film actor, and comedian. His single hits included: ‘Memories are Made of This’, ‘This Amore’, ‘Everybody Loves Somebody’, ‘Mambo Italiano’, ‘Sawy’, ‘Volare’, ‘Ain’t That a Kick in the head?’, and ‘Rat Pack’. Martin was born Dino Paul Crocetti in Steubenville, Ohio to Italian parents. His father was from Abruzzo, Italy. Martin was the younger of two sons. His brother was called Bill. He was the target of much ridicule for his broken English and dropped out of High School in the 10th grade because he thought that he was smarter than his teachers. He delivered bootleg liquor, served as a speakeasy croupier, wrote crafty anecdotes, was a blackjack dealer, worked in a steel mill and boxed. In Oct 1941 he married Elizabeth Ann MacDonald. They had four children, and then were divorced. Drafted into the US in 1944 during WWII, Martin served a year stationed in Akron, Ohio. He was reclassified as 4-F, referred to surgery, and then discharged. He began playing in clubs, winning national audiences. Martin attracted the attention of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer and Columbia Pictures but a Hollywood contract was not forthcoming.

Martin and Lewis formed a fast friendship which led to their participation in each other’s acts and the ultimate formation of a music-comedy team. He performed with Frank Sinatra, Humphrey Bogart, and Lauren Bacall. In 1965, Martin launched his weekly NBS comedy-variety series, The Dean Martin Show, which exploited his public image as a lazy, carefree boozer. In 1972, Martin suffered a mid-life crisis, he filed for divorce from his second wife, Jeanne. Less than a month afterward he married Catherine Hawn on April 1973. They divorced in Nov 1975. His third marriage lasted three years.

“Good Eatin’ Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, then a salted, cooked ox,

and hatred therewith.” - Prov. 15:17 * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Good Dinner - Samuel Papys

“Strange how a good dinner and feasting reconciles everybody.” * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Blue Moon By Richard Rodgers & Lorenz Hart

Blue Moon you saw me standing alone Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own Blue moon, you knew just what I was there for

You heard me saying a pray’r For someone I really could care for

And then there suddenly appeared before me The only one my arms will ever hold

I heard somebody whisper ‘Please adore me’ And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold!

Blue moon! Now I’m no longer alone Without a dream in my heart,

Without a love of my own.

Blue moon you saw me standing alone Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own. Blue moon you knew just what I was there for;

Someone I really could care for, and Then there suddenly appeared before me

The only one my arms will ever hold I heard somebody whisper ‘Please adore me’

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold! Blue moon! Now I’m no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Sonnum Bonum

(or The Kiss of One Girl) - Robert Browning (1889)

All the breath and the bloom of the year in the bag of one bee:

All the wonder and wealth of the mine in the heart of one gem:

In the core of one pearl all the shade and the shine of the sea:

Breath and bloom, shade and shine, wonder, wealth, and--how far above them--

Truth, that's brighter than gem, Trust, that's purer than pearl,--

Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe— all were for me in the kiss of one girl.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Love That Alters Is Not Love “Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.” – William Shakespeare

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * How Do I Love Thee

- Author Unknown I love you for what you are, and what you’ve made of me.

You stir up my heart and feelings, for you constantly. You are my complete happiness, when you are near.

I’m sad and lonely when we are apart, you are so much a part of me.

My other half, you are always in my thoughts and actions

Everything I do or say, I do it with you in mind. How do I love thee? I love you for being a part of me.

You are the one I go to sleep with and the one I wake up to. You are more to me than I am to myself.

Every waking hour, you are on my mind. No one could ever take your place in my heart

And soul and spirit, no darling, you are my everything, Even though we are apart, we are always together, At least in our minds, and this is how I love thee –

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Meeting at Night - Robert Browning

The gray sea and the long black land; And the yellow half-moon large and low;

And the startled little waves that leap In fiery ringlets from their sleep,

As I gain the cove with pushing prow, And quench its speed i' the slushy sand. Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach; Three fields to cross till a farm appears;

A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch And blue spurt of a lighted match,

And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears, Than the two hearts beating each to each! * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

(Robert Browning (1812-1889) was an English poet and playwright whose mastery of dramatic verse, especially dramatic monologues, made him one of the foremost Victorian poets. Born in Camberwell, a suburb of London, England, his father was an abolitionist, his mother a musician. His grandmother was a Jamacian born mulatto who inherited a plantation in St. Kitts. His father amassed a library of about 6,000 books, many of them rare. His only sister, Sarianna, also gifted, became her brother’s companion in the later years. By age 12 Browning had written a book of poetry which he later destroyed. He attended several private schools, and then was educated by a tutor. A

genius, at age 14 he was fluent in French, Greek, Italian, and Latin. He attended only a bit of

college, and then became a play write of songs and plays. He became an atheist and vegetarian at a young age, and abandoned them later. He married Elizabeth Barrett in 1845, a secret wedding; she died in 1861. In 1868, his first poem The Ring and the Book achieved recognition. The story of his life was made into a play called ‘The Barretts of Wimpole Street’. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Elizabeth Barrett Robert Browning Browning


* * * * * * * * * * * *

How Sweet the Moonlight “How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank. Here will

we sit, and let the sounds of music creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit my love, look how the floor of heaven is thick inlaid with patterns of bright gold; There’s not the smallest orb which thou beholds’t, but in it’s motion like and angel sings; still

choiring to the young-eye’d cherubim.” – William Shakespeare * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Feminine She might have known it in the earlier Spring,-- That all my heart with vague desire was stirred; And, ere the Summer winds had taken wing, I told her; but she smiled and said no word.

The Autumn's eager hand his red gold grasped, And she was silent; till from skies grown drear

Fell soft one fine, first snow-flake, and she clasped My neck and cried, "Love, we have lost a year!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Magic Of Love

- Helen Steiner Rice -

Love is like magic and it always will be. For love still remains life's sweet mystery!!

Love works in ways that are wondrous and strange - and there's nothing in life that love cannot change!!

Love can transform the most commonplace Into beauty and splendor and sweetness and grace.

Love is unselfish, understanding and kind, For it sees with its heart and not with its mind!!

Love is the answer that everyone seeks... Love is the language that every heart speaks. Love

is the answer that everyone seeks... Love is the language, that every heart speaks. Love can't be bought, it is priceless and free, Love, like

pure magic, is life's sweet mystery!! * * * * * * * * * * * *

If You Love Something, Let it Go If you love something let it go -

If it comes back it’s yours; If it doesn’t it was never yours anyway.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Lover’s Alphabet Song

(Sung by Perry Como)

When Johnny Jones was serenading Mary He sure could quote a lot of poetry

But he'd much rather tell 'er what he learned in his speller When they both attended PS 33

(A) you're adorable (B) you're so beautiful

(C) you're a cutie full of charms (D) you’re a darling and

(E) you're exciting (F) you're a feather in my arms

(G) you look good to me (H) you're so heavenly

(I) you're the one I idolize (J) we're like Jack and Jill

(K) you're so kissable (L) is the love light in your eyes

M, N, O, P (you could go on all day) Q ,R, S, T (alphabetically speaking, you're OK)

(U) made my life complete (V) means you're very sweet

W, X, Y, Z Its fun to wander through

The alphabet with you because You mean to me

From the album The Very Best of Perry Como.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Night Has a Thousand Eyes

By Francis William Bourdillon (1852-1921) The night has a thousand eyes,

And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies

With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes,

And the heart but one: Yet the light of a whole life dies

When love is done. -Published in ‘The Spectator’ (Oct. 1873)

Love - Marion Shoeberlein

A star is shining in my heart, My dreams have wings that touch the sky,

I’d marry you a thousand times — I’ll love you till the day I die.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Remedy for Love

There is no remedy for love but to love more - Henry David Thoreau * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * *

She Was A Phantom of Delight - William Wordsworth

She was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight;

A lovely Apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament;

Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn

From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.

I saw her upon a nearer view, A Spirit, yet a Woman too!

Her household motions light and free, And steps of virgin liberty;

A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A Creature not too bright or good

For human nature's daily food;

For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine;

A Being breathing thoughtful breath, A Traveler between life and death;

The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;

A perfect Woman, nobly planned, To warm, to comfort, and command;

And yet a Spirit still, and bright, With something of angelic light.

* * * * * * * * * * * * William Wordsworth (1770-1850) was a British poet credited with ushering in the English Romantic Movement with the publication of Lyrical Ballads (1798) in collaboration with Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Born in 1770 in Cockermouth, Cumberland, in the Lake District, son of John Wordsworth, Sir James Lowther’s attorney. He lost his mother at age 8, and had a strong love of nature. Domestic problems separated him from his beloved sister Dorothy, a very important person in his life. He entered Cambridge University with the help of two uncles, and made his debut as a writer in 1787, when he published The European Magazine, the same year he entered St. John’s College, Cambridge from where he obtained his B.A. in 1791. During the summer of 1790 he med Annette Vallon, by whom he had illegitimate daughter Anne Caroline, the affair was the basis of the poem ‘Vaudracour and Julia’, but otherwise he did his best to hide the affair from posterity. In 1795 he met Coleridge, and his financial affairs became better in 1795 and was able to settle down at Race down, Dorset, with his sister Dorothy. Encouraged by Coleridge to compose about items about his close relationship with nature. About 1798 he started to write a large and philosophical autobiographical poem, completed in 1805. He spent the

winter with his sister and Coleridge in Germany, and later moved to Dove Cottage, Grasmere, and in 1802 married Mary Hutchinson. The couple cared for his sister, Dorothy in her later years of her life. He produced several works during 1797 and 1808. His second verse collection, Poems, In Two Volumes appeared in 1807. His book The Prelude was published in 1850, posthumously.


* * * * * * * * * * * * Do Good

- Caroline S. Kalowice “To share Joy is to show love;

To show Love is to know God, To know God is to do good.

To do good is to spread happiness.” * * * * * * * * * * * *

Catch a Falling Star - Composed by Lee Pockriss & Paul Vance,

recorded in 1957 by Perry Como. Sung by Dean Martin (Chorus) Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

Never let it fade away, Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

Save it for a rainy day, For love may come and tap you on the shoulder

Some starless night, Just in case you feel you wanna hold her

You’ll have a pocketful of starlight! (Chorus)

For love may come and tap you on the shoulder Some starless night and just in case you feel you wanna hold

her you’ll have a pocketful of starlight (Chorus)

For when your troubles start multiplyin’ And they just might it’s easy to forget them without tryin’

with just a pocketful of starlight (Chorus)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Sonnet II

By Francis William Bourdillon (1852-1921) As strong, as deep, as wide as is the sea,

Though by the wind made restless as the wind, By billows fretted and by rocks confined,

So strong, so deep, so wide my love for thee.” Published in Scribner’s Monthly Vol. IX (Nov. 1874) pg 359.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * When You Wore A Tulip

- Jerry Lee Lewis When you wore a tulip,

A sweet yellow tulip, And I wore a big red rose, When you caressed me,

'twas then Heaven blessed me, What a blessing, no one knows,

You made life cheery, When you called me dearie,

'Twas down where the blue grass grows, Your lips were sweeter than julep,

When you wore that tulip, And I wore a big red rose. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * A Farmer’s Love Letter

Mrs. Stella Gilbert, 1909 My Dear Honey Dew,

Do you carrot all for me, For my heart beets for you;

And my Love is as soft as a gourd But as strong as an onion.

For you are a peach with your Radish hair and turnip’d nose. You are the apple of my eye,

So if we cantaloupe then Lettuce marry anyhow, For I know we would make a happy pear. * * * * * * * * * * *

You Are My Sunshine You Are My Sunshine my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey.

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away

The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping I dreamed I held you in my arms.

When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken And I hung my head and cried.

You Are My Sunshine my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey.

A popular song first recorded in 1939, copyrighted in 1930 by Jimmie Davis and Charles Mitchell.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Song For A Husband

- unknown Out in the sun a little wind is singing, lyrics to the leaves and sighing grass,

Where is the song of love I should be bringing? Am I some lesser thing than winds that pass?

And yet when enemy takes its inventory by firelight, it can count my poems, too;

The crisp shirts, and the spicy golden glory of pumpkin pies, the savory scent of stew.

What words that wind or I could ever write, Would be as sweet as smooth sheets on a bed?

Where are lovers lyrics so bright, To hungry hearts as the warmth of fresh-baked bread?

* * * * * * * * * * * * Actions Speak Louder

“Actions speak louder than words.’ * * * * * * * * * * *

Truth is Better Truth is better than Charisma.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Any Husband or Wife

by Carol Haynes Let us be guests in one another's house

With deferential "no" and courteous "yes"; Let us take care to hide our foolish moods

Behind a certain show of cheerfulness. Let us avoid all sullen silences;

We should find fresh and sprightly things to say; I must be fearful lest you find me dull,

And you must dread to bore me anyway.

Let us knock gently at each other's heart, Glad of a chance to look within–and yet, Let us remember that to force one's way Is the unpardoned breach of etiquette.

So, shall I be host–you, the hostess, Until all need for entertainment ends;

We shall be lovers when the last door shuts But what is better still–we shall be friends.

This good love poem by Carol Haynes is a great lesson in how any husband or wife should treat one another at all times. So many fights and misunderstandings could be avoided if we

just followed the advice that is given in this verse. It's also a wonderful verse to be read at weddings for future advice and to recite for a 50th anniversary.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Scatter Sunshine

- Edgar A. Guest “I’m going to send you down to earth.” Said God to me one day,

“I’m giving you what men will call ‘birth’ – tonight you’ll start away; I want you to live with men until I call you back again.

I trembled as I heard him speak, yet knew that I must go; I felt his hand upon my cheek, and wished that I might known

just what on earth would be my task, And timidly I dared to ask. “Tell me before I start away what thou would

have me do; What message would thou have me say? When shall my work be through? That I may serve thee on the earth, Tell me the purpose of my birth.” God smiled at me and softly said:

“Oh, you shall find your task, I want you free life’s paths to tread, So do not stay to ask, remember, If your best you do,

That I shall ask no more of you.” How often as my work I do, so commonplace and grim,

I sit and sigh and wish I knew if I am pleasing him. I wonder if, with every test,

I’ve truly tried to do my best. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ideas Little minds speak of persons; average minds of events; and great

minds of ideas. - Pascal * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * True Love - Phoebe Cary

I think true love is never blind, but rather brings an added light, an inner vision quick to find the

beauties hid from common sight. No soul can ever clearly see

another’s highest, noblest part; Save through the sweet philosophy

and loving wisdom of the heart. Your unanointed eyes shall fall

On him who fills my world with light, You do not see my friend at all,

You see what hides him from your sight I see the feet that fain would climb, You but the steps that turn astray,

I see the soul, Unharmed, sublime, You, but the garment and the clay

You see a mortal, weak, misled Dwarfed ever by the earthly clod,

I see how manhood, perfected May reach the stature of a god.

Blinded i stood, as now you stand, Till on mine eyes, with touches sweet,

Love, the deliverer, laid his hand, And lo! I worship at his feet!

** * * * * * * * * * * What Shall I Do

- Fanny Kemble What shall I do with all the days and hours that must be

counted ‘ere I see the face? How shall I charm the interval that lowers between this time

and that sweet time of grace? .... Oh, how, or by what means, nay I contrive to bring the hour

that brings you back more near? How may I teach my drooping hopes to live

Until the blessed time that thou art here? * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Somewhere - Sir Edwin Arnold

Somewhere there waiteth in this world of ours For one love soul, another lonely soul –

Each chasing each through all the weary hours, and meeting strangely at one sudden goal,

Then blend they – like green leaves with golden flowers, Into one beautiful and perfect whole-

And life’s long night is ended, and the way lies open onward to eternal day.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Universe of Life

- Arnold Bennett You wake up in the morning, and lo your purse is magically

filled with twenty-four hours of the magic tissue of the universe of your life. No one can take it from you.

No one receives either more or less then you receive. Waste your infinitely precious commodity as much as you will, and the supply will never be withheld form you. Moreover, you

cannot draw on the future, impossible to get into debt. You can only waste the passing moment, you cannot waste

tomorrow, it is kept for you. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dusk - Helen Welshimer

These are the things men seek at dusk: Firelight across a room,

Green splashing against dim roofs, Gardens where flowers bloom.

Lamplighted gold of a windowpane, Trees with tall stars above,

Women who watch a darkening street For somebody they love,

Faith of a small child’s rhyming prayer, Candle shine... tables spread

With a blossom or two in a gay blue bowl, Fragrance of crusted bread.

For men may dream of a clipper ship, A wharf or a gypsy camp,

But their footsteps pattern a homing way To a woman, a child, a lamp.

* * * * * * * * * * * Song

- Louis Ginsberg Love that is hoarded moulds at length;

Until we know some day The only thing we ever had

Is what we give away. And kindness that is never used

But hidden all alone, Will slowly harden till it is

As hard as any stone. It is the things we always hold

That we lose day by day; The only things we ever keep

Are what we give away. * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Life’s Scars

- Ella Wheeler Wilcox They say the world is round, and yet

I often think it square, So many little hurts we get

From corners here and there. But one great truth in life I've found,

While journeying to the West- The only folks who really wound

Are those we love the best. The man you thoroughly despise Can rouse your wrath, 'tis true;

Annoyance in your heart will rise At things mere strangers do;

But those are only passing ills; This rule all lives will prove;

The rankling wound which aches and thrills Is dealt by hands we love.

The choicest garb, the sweetest grace,

Are oft to strangers shown; The careless mien, the frowning face,

Are given to our own. We flatter those we scarcely know,

We please the fleeting guest, And deal full many a thoughtless blow

To those who love us best. Love does not grow on every tree,

Nor true hearts yearly bloom. Alas for those who only see

This cut across a tomb! But, soon or late, the fact grows plain

To all through sorrow's test: The only folks who give us pain

Are those we love the best. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * At A Window

- Carl Sandburg Give me hunger,

O you gods that sit and give The world its orders.

Give me hunger, pain and want, Shut me out with shame and failure From your doors of gold and fame,

Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger! But leave me a little love,

A voice to speak to me in the day end, A hand to touch me in the dark room

Breaking the long loneliness. In the dusk of day-shapes

Blurring the sunset, One little wandering, western star

Thrust out from the changing shores of shadow. Let me go to the window,

Watch there the day-shapes of dusk And wait and know the coming

Of a little love. * * * * * * * * *

Wedding Anniversary - Margaret E. Bruner

This is the anniversary of the day of days for us, When we, with faith and hope went forth together,

Solemn and yet gay, we faced the future, For life’s upward slope was joyous going,

And we never thought then, that there might be worries – hours of pain, and sleepless nights

that left one overwrought – That loss would often come instead of gain.

But looking back, the time has not seemed long, Although the road, for us, was something rough,

We have grown quiet and the buoyant song; Once in our hearts sings low, and yet enough of

loveliness still lives to make amends to us, For all the ills it chose to send.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sentiments for Weddings - Kahlil Gibran

Love one another, but make not a bond of love, let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of our souls. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, even as the strings of a lute are alone, though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each others keeping, for only the hand of life can contain your hearts. Stand together, yet not too near together. For the pillars of the temple stand apart and the oak and the cypress

grow not in each other’s shadow.

Happiness in marriage is not something that just happens. A good marriage must be created. In the art of marriage, the

little things are the big things… It is never being too old to hold hands. It is remembering to say, “I love you.”

It is at no time taking the other for granted. It is having a mutual sense of values and common objectives;

It is standing together facing the world. It is doing things for each other, not in the attitude of duty or

sacrifice, but in the spirit of joy.

It is not expecting perfection in each other. It is cultivating flexibility, patience, understanding, and a

sense of humor. It is having a capacity to forgive and forget. It is establishing a relationship in which the independence is

equal, the dependence is mutual, and the obligation is reciprocal. It is a common search for the good and the

beautiful. It is not marrying the right partner; it is being the right partner. It is discovering that your love for one another

at its best will never lose sight of or be blotted out by the common place experiences of life.

And it is remembering that remaining devoted,

confident and hopeful in one another are the secret ingredients, which will help you to remain two very happy people, richer for your oneness.

Two lives, two people, so very different, yet so similar. Together we stand as one, sharing our future as it comes.

Remember, the past is that, past. Buds are yet to blossom, with care and trust,

the best is yet to be revealed. Honesty and kindness, are the fruits of love.

Lord bless this day and always To enrich us so our love will never end.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * His Will

- Shirley C. Vance For years I searched for happiness in worldly things and nothing less.

My prayers to God were just my will I asked would He my dreams fulfill. My heart and mind endured the test until I learned His will was best.

He stood by waiting patiently for me to learn, to grow, to see. I know now why it took so long - my way seemed best, my will was strong.

But more and more I couldn’t cope, I felt depressed and lost my hope. My prayers one night were just His will. I felt relieved, I’d climbed the hill.

His love so brightly lit my way; my faith grew stronger every day.

Each time I felt I had a doubt I’d go to Him to work it out. It’s great to know His will for me is peace and love - Serenity. He gave me you to find my way to brighten up my every day.

And now that I have your love so strong I know that life has not been wrong. You see, now that I am in your life

I’ll bow to His will, and become your wife. As you kneel down tonight to pray just ask

His will to guide your way. And now I’ll love eternally His will for us, has set me free!

* * * * * * * * * * Love’s Invitation

- unknown The wedding of two people is a continual process.

It happens, not at the altar of man, but in the Soul of Mind, where that which appears

to human eyes in separation has decided to know its unity.

Thus that which is announced publicly, with license and ceremony,

is already happening in the Soul of our Minds. There True Love grows in wisdom and possibility

as it shares in The Infinity of Greater Being. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


Sayings about Character

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It’s Your Design -Judy Dos Santos

It’s your design of love for me, that overwhelms my heart,

And keeps my mind agape in awe – that I be designed a part of such

a great a miraculous plan On this your might earth amidst your timeless scheme for man –

My soul you’ll find of worth. * * * * * * * * *

Criticism

Accept criticism and seek counsel of those who will tell you your faults.

Mere praise will never bring the improvement you need. He that won't be counseled can't be helped.

* * * * * * * * * * * Character

Never does a man portray his own character more vividly then in his manner of portraying another.

- Richter * * * * * * * * * * *

Slander You can not bring prosperity by talking poverty; no soul of high estate can take

pleasure in slander, it betrays a weakness. * * * * * * * * * * *

Luke- Warmness Before water generates steam, it must register 212 of heat, 200 degrees will not do it, the water must boil to generate enough steam to move an

engine. Just as luke-warmness will not generate life’s work. * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Little Deeds of Kindness Little Deeds of Kindness, Little Words of Love, Makes a mighty ocean, Like the Heaven’s above.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Everything is Fresh

Everyday is a fresh beginning, every morning is the world made new. * * * * * * * * * * * * Don’t Bite The Hand

Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * *

High Character - Charles H.S. Spurgeon

A high character might be produced, I suppose, by continued prosperity, but it has very seldom been the case. Adversity, however it may appear to be our foe,

is our true friend; and, after a little acquaintance with it, we receive it as a precious thing – the prophecy of a

coming joy. It should be no ambition of ours to traverse a path without a thorn or stone.

* * * * * * * * * * * Fears and Angels

“Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” * * * * * * * * * * *

Give to Receive If you want to get something first give something, then you will receive it. He who giveth, receiveth.

* * * * * * * * * * * Help One Another

- Mosiah 4:11-16 “And again I say unto you as I have said before, that as ye

have come to the knowledge of the glory of God, or if ye have known of his goodness and have tasted of his love, and have

received a remission of your sins, which causeth such exceedingly great joy in your souls, even so I would that ye should remember, and always retain in remembrance, the

greatness of God, and your own nothingness, and his goodness and long-suffering towards you, unworthy creatures, and humble yourselves even in the depths of humility, calling on the name of the Lord daily, and standing steadfastly in the faith of that which is to come, which was spoken by the mouth of the angel. And behold, I say unto you that if ye do this ye shall always rejoice, and be filled with the love of God, and always retain a

remission of your sins; and ye shall grow in the knowledge of the glory of him that created you, or in the knowledge of that which is just and true. And ye will not have a mind to injure one another, but

to live peaceably, and to render to every man according to that which is his due. And ye will not suffer your children that they go hungry, or naked; neither will ye suffer that they transgress the laws

of God, and fight and quarrel one with another, and serve the devil, who is the master of sin, or who is the evil spirit which hath been spoken of by our fathers, he being an enemy to all righteousness. But ye will teach them to walk in the ways of truth and soberness; ye will teach them to love one another,

and to serve one another. And also, ye yourselves will succor those that stand in need of your succor; ye will administer of

your substance unto him that standeth in need; and ye will not suffer that the beggar putteth up his petition to you in vain, and

turn him out to perish. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * The Best Use of Life

The great use of life is to spend it for something that outlasts it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * The Value of Each Day

Nothing is more highly to be prized then the value of each day. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Write it on your heart Write it on your heart: that everyday

is the best day of the year. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Patience Helps one to become great He who wants to do a great deal of good at once will never do anything. Life is made up of little

things. True greatness consists in being great in little things. - Charles Simmons * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In, but not of Babylon We are in Babylon, but we should not take on the traditions

of Babylon, or we will receive of her plagues. * * * * * * * * * * *

Quit Digging If you find yourself in a hole don’t keep digging

Or you’ll make yourself go deeper. * * * * * * * * * * *

Common Sense Eating If you want to gain weight: eat, eat, eat –

If you want to lose weight: drink, drink, drink – If you want to stay the same – Eat and drink. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Change Operations “If you always do what you’ve always done –

you’ll always get what you’ve always got.” * * * * * * * * * *

Longest Word in The Dictionary What is the longest word in the dictionary?

Smiles (it is miles long). * * * * * * * * * * *

Enthusiasm = Youthfulness

So long as enthusiasm lasts, so long is youth still with us. – David S. Jordan

* * * * * * * * * * * * Laughter brings sunshine

A good laugh is like sunshine in the house. * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Man Can Be “A man can be just about as happy as he

makes up his mind to be.” – Abraham Lincoln * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Happiness of Life “The happiness of life is made up of minute

fractions; a kiss, or smile, a kind look, a heart felt compliment.” - Samuel Taylor Coleridge


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Be Prepared For War

The best way to prevent War is to be prepared for it. * * * * * * * * * *

Evil Conquers when Good Does Nothing “All it takes for evil to conquer is for good men to do nothing.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * We Judge Ourselves

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, While others judge us by what we have already done.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Judge Not

Judge not that ye be not judged. * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * *

An Ounce Of Prevention An ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * I Owe, I Owe, I Owe

I owe, I owe, I owe, so off to work I go. * * * * * * * * * * *

Walk a mile in another’s shoes Don’t judge another until you have walked in their shoes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Do Unto Others

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. * * * * * * * * * *

Empathy helps the burden Sympathy is two hearts tugging at one load.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Four Spent things

Four things come not back, The spoken word, the sped arrow, the past life, the neglected opportunity. - Arabian Proverb

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Honesty is best

It is the easiest path in the world to be honest – To be upright before God; and when people learn this; they will practice

it. – Brigham Young * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Rich Man “The rich man who got rich through honest and hard work will be blest; but the rich man who stole from others or lied to get gain will be cursed

when Judgment Day comes. * * * * * * * * * * *

Anger makes a person small The broad general rule is that a man is about as big as the things that

make him angry. “A man full of anger, is a man full of sin.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * When Lawyers are Corrupt

When Law Makers break the law, there is no Law.” * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Behavior = Consequences “When we choose the behavior, we also choose the

consequences.” * * * * * * * * * * * * * Waste Not, Want Not

Waste not, and you will want not. * * * * * * * * * * *

Lies Need More to Cover Up One lie needs many more to cover it up.

* * * * * * * * * * * We Can Do Evil or Good

We can do evil or good – it’s up to each of us – But someday we shall also receive our reward or

punishment. * * * * * * * * *

Accept Others Accept each other for the good you see in them.

* * * * * * * * * * * Prayers are Ladders to god

Prayer is a ladder on which our thoughts mount to God. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He Who Wins “He who wins, never gives up.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * A Thousand Mile Journey

“A thousand mile journey took one step at a time.” * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Try, Try Again If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, again.

* * * * * * * * * * Pray, Forget & Forgive

“Pray you now, forget and forgive.” – William Shakespeare * * * * * * * * * *

In Delaying There Is No Plenty “In delay there lies no plenty.” – William Shakespeare

* * * * * * * * * * Perfection Is Not Absolute

“He is not great who is not greatly good, but no perfection is so absolute, that some impurity doth not pollute.

– William Shakespeare * * * * * * * * * *

Courage mounts with the occasion “Courage mounteth with occasion.” – William Shakespeare

* * * * * * * * * * The Worst Is Not So Long

“The worst is not so long as we can say, this is the worst.” – William Shakespeare

* * * * * * * * * * Do Not Steal

Those who steal will pay 30 times for each one time they stole. God has no use for thieves. Read the Lost Books of the Bible.

* * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * *

Leave the Room Cleaner Always leave a room better than how you found it,

even if all you leave are words of kindness. * * * * * * * *

Clean It Up If you break it, fix it. If you make a mess, clean it up.

* * * * * * * * * * Clean Up Behind Yourself

Always leave things better, then when you found them. * * * * * * * * * * *

Clean is Better “A saint is a person who will leave a room cleaner

than he found it.” * * * * * * * * * * *

Sharp “No mind is as sharp as a sharpened pencil.”

* * * * * * * * * Teaching

“Let me teach right where there is wrong.” * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dead Fish “Only dead fish go with the flow”.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Politicians

“Politicians are like soiled diapers, they are full of crap, and need to be changed often!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * Let me sow

“Let me sow love where there is hate; Let me sow peace where there is war;

Let me give light where there is darkness.” * * * * * * * * * * * *

Let It Go If you love something, or someone, let them go. If they come back, they

are yours, if they don’t they never were anyhow. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sickness & Disease Comes from the Dark One I refuse to allow sickness or disease in my life!

I want nothing from the devil; I give him no pleasure; I give him no place in me.

Therefore, I won’t allow sickness in my body; And all of heaven backs me up!

* * * * * * * * * * * * Devil’s Place

If you go on the devil’s ground, he will handle you. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Do It For Free If we always get paid for the good things we do

We won’t earth any good points on the other side. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Riches “Our riches are not our own, we are stewards over them.”

* * * * * * * * * * Fiends in Angel Form

“Beware of a fiend in angel form; a demon in disguise; Temptation is his name; the Human Heart his battleground.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Depart from Evil and Do Good

Do good, seek peace and pursue it. – Psalms 37:14 * * * * * * * * *

Happy Days make Us Wise The days that make up happy make us wise.

- John Masebuild * * * * * * * * * * * *

Now is the time Now is the time!

* * * * * * * * * * * The Past Reveals the Future

We’ll never understand the future, If we don’t understand the past. * * * * * * * * * * *

Charity is virtue of Love Charity is a virtue of the heart and not the hands. - Addison

* * * * * * * * * * * Faith is belief in Unseen things

What is faith unless it is to believe what you do not see. * * * * * * * * * * *

Shared Sorrow is Trouble, but Joy Shared makes Double A sorrow shared is but half a trouble, but a joy that’s shared is a joy

made double. (Proverb) * * * * * * * * * * *

See Beauty and Stay Young Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty, never grows old.

– Franza Kaftra * * * * * * * * * * *

Love Thy Neighbor shows Love of God The love of our neighbor is a safe and rather

accurate measure of our love of God. – Thomas A. Judge.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Bloom Where Planted

It isn’t where you’re planted but how you bloom each day.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Seek Happiness at Home

Unless we find beauty and happiness in our back yard we will

never find it in the mountains. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Walk a mile in Someone’s Shoes

He knows the water best, who has waded through it. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Golden Days pay the Debt One Golden Day redeems a weary year. - Cilia Thaxter

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Fill Hearts Full of Love

Whoever has a heart full of love, always has something to give. – John 13 * * * * * * * * * * *

Faith makes each day good Faith in tomorrow makes today beautiful. - Mobley

* * * * * * * * * * * * Take Moments of Joy as they Come

Seize the moment before it’s gone for another day begins at dawn. - Clay Harrison

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Let’s be Christ-like

“Let us all try to be more Christ-like, in all our actions – everyday.” * * * * * * * * *

Growing “If you’re learning you are like a healthy pumpkin

that is maturing on the vine; If you stop, you’re like a pumpkin sitting there rotting.”

* * * * * * * * * * Admit wrongs quickly

If you are wrong, admit it. * * * * * * * * * * *

What we do “What we do to bless others, we shall be given back

to us many times more.” * * * * * * * * * * *

Thoughts Have Form Positive thoughts begets positive action.

* * * * * * * * * * * Exert Your Will

Where there is a will there is a way. * * * * * * * * * *

Carefree Days We have two carefree days a week, They are yesterday and tomorrow.

* * * * * * * * * * A Day Makes a Difference

“What a difference a day makes.” * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Training is Important “When you fail to train”, “You train to fail”.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * Definitions

- Joseph Joel Keith “Honor”, said the man “is character,

immaculate belief, integrity. Honor is holding one’s name as the sun by day, as a star by night,

as a candle if dark creeps into the heart or mind. Honor is immeasurable pride of man,

the forward striving of men toward immortality, the impeccable fruition.”

“Honor”, said the child, “is never telling another, and never telling yourself a lie.”

* * * * * * * * * * Two Seas

- Bruce Barton THERE were two seas in Palestine. One is fresh,

and fish are in it. Splashes of green adorn it's banks. Trees spread their branches over it and stretch out

their thirsty roots to sip its healing waters.

The River Jordan makes this sea with sparkling water from the hills. So it laughs in the sunshine. And men

build their houses near to it, and birds their nests; and every kind of life is happier because it is there.

The River Jordan flows south into another sea.

Here is no splash of fish, no fluttering leaf, no song of birds, no children's laughter. Travelers choose another route, unless on urgent business. The air hangs heavy

above it's water, and neither man nor beast nor fowl will drink.

What makes this mighty difference in these neighbor seas? Not the River Jordan. It empties the same water

into both. Not the soil in which they lie; not in the country round about.

This is the difference. The sea of Galilee receives but does not keep the

Jordan. For every drop that flows into it another drop flows out. The giving and the receiving go on in equal measure.

The other sea is shrewder, hoarding its income jealously. It will not be tempted into any generous impulse.

Every drop it gets, it keeps. The Sea of Galilee gives and lives.

This other sea gives nothing. It is named ‘the Dead’. There are two kinds of people in the world.

There are two seas in Palestine. * * * * * * * * * * *


Poems & Sayings about Nature

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Rainy Day

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary; It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

How Happy Is the Little Stone - Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

How happy is the little stone That rambles in the road alone, And doesn't care about careers,

And exigencies never fears; Whose coat of elemental brown

A passing universe put on; And independent as the sun,

Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute decree

In casual simplicity. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Life’s Sweetest Joy - May Riley Smith

Life’s sweetest joys are hidden in unsubstantial things; an April rain, a fragrance, a vision of blue wings.

* * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * The Heart of a Tree

- Henry Cuyler Bunner (1855-1896)

What does he plant who plants a tree? He plants a friend of sun and sky; He plants the flag of breezes free; The shaft of beauty, towering high. He plants a home to heaven anigh For song and mother-croon of bird

In hushed and happy twilight heard -- The treble of heaven's harmony –

These things he plants who plants a tree. What does he plant who plants a tree? He plants cool shade and tender rain,

And seed and bud of days to be, And years that fade and flush again;

He plants the glory of the plain; He plants the forest's heritage; The harvest of a coming age;

They joy that unborn eyes shall see –

These things he plants who plants a tree. What does he plant who plants a tree? He plants, in sap and leaf and wood,

In love of home and loyalty And far-cast thought of civic good -- His blessing on the neighborhood Who in the hollow of His hand

Holds all the growth of all our land -- A nation's growth from sea to sea Stirs in his heart who plants a tree.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Henry Cuyler Bunner (1855-1896) was an American novelist and poet born in Oswego, New York, educated in New York City, began his young career as a clerk in an importing house, he soon turned to journalism, and after working for a time as a reporter and on the staff of The Arcadian (1873) he became assistant editor of the comic weekly magazine Puck, a few years later he assumed editorship of the magazine, which he held until his death in Nutley, New Jersey. He brought Puck from a new struggling periodical into a powerful social and political organ. In 1886 he published a novel, The Midge, followed in 1887 by The Story of a New York House. But his best efforts were in short stories and sketches: Short Sixes, More Short Sixes, Made in France, Zadoc Pine and Other Stories, Love in Old Clothes and Other Stories, and Jersey Street and Jersey Lane. He also wrote several poems, The Way to Arcady, and the ones above & below, displaying a light play of

imagination and a delicate workmanship. He also wrote several plays, among them The Tower of Babel (1883). His short story ‘Zenobia’s Infidelity’ was later made into a film called Zenobia by the Hal Roach Studio in 1939.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Law of Life - unknown

The tree that never had to fight For sun and sky and air and light, That stood out in the open plain And always got its share of rain,

Never became a forest king, But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil Who never had to win his share

Of sun sky and light and air, Never became a manly man,

But lived and died as he began. Good timber does not grow in ease. The stronger wind, the tougher trees,

The farther sky, the greater length, The more the storm, the more the strength,

By sun and cold, by rain and snows, In tree or man, good timber grows.

* * * * * * * * * * A Night In The Wood

- Nancy M. Hayes When night comes down on the children’s eyes,

And all in the house is still, For busy folk it is time to rise,

In the Wood Land over the hill. There are those who wake when the moon is high;

They have slept for the whole long day. With a silent shake or a call or cry, they are off to the trail away.

The owl, who hides from the sunlight’s beam, Hark! There is his ‘Too-Hoo-Hoo!”

The Vale who lives by the gurgling stream

Streak out in the darkness too. The squirrel, the rat, and the squeaking bat

All open their keen little eyes and rise, And the hedgehog peeps from his cozy nest,

And hurries out with the rest. And the bark of the fox shows he’s astir,

And the rabbit shivers within his fur;

And the sleepy old dormouse wakes at last – There’s none in the wood can move so fast.

Each one on his trail is off away And never comes back till the dawn of the day.

Oh, when in the night the moon is high And the stars look down from the dusky sky,

If we crept out – if we only could! – What wonderful things we should see in the wood!

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Year’s At the Spring

- Robert Browning The year's at the spring, And day's at the morn;

Morning's at seven; The hill-side's dew-pearl'd;

The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn;

God's in His heaven-- All's right with the world!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Pippa Passes

- Robert Browning The year’s at the spring, And day’s at the morn;

Morning’s at seven; The hill-side’s dew-pearled;

The lark’s on the wing; The snail’s on the thorn;

God’s in his Heaven - All’s right with the world!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * The Tree of my Life

- Edward Roland Sill When I was yet but a child, the gardener gave me a tree, A little slim elm, to be set wherever seemed good to me

What a wonderful thing it seemed! with its lace-edged leaves uncurled, And its span-long stem,

that should grow to the grandest tree in the world! So I searched all the garden round, and out over field and hill,

But not a spot could I find that suited my wayward will. I would have it bowered in the grove, in a close and quiet vale;

I would rear it aloft on the height, to wrestle with the gale. Then I said, "I will cover its roots with a little earth by the door,

And there it shall live and wait, while I search for a place once more." But still I could never find it, the place for my wondrous tree,

And it waited and grew by the door, while years passed over me; Till suddenly, one fine day, I saw it was grown too tall,

And its roots gone down too deep, to be ever moved at all. So here it is growing still, by the lowly cottage door;

Never so grand and tall as I dreamed it would be of yore, But it shelters a tired old man in its sunshine-dappled shade,

The children's pattering feet round its knotty knees have played, Dear singing birds in a storm sometimes take refuge there, And the stars through its silent boughs shine gloriously fair.

* * * * * * * * * * Edward Rowland Sill (1841-1887) was an American poet (born in Windsor Connecticut. He graduated from Yale University in 1861, engaged in business in California, in 1867 took a position on the staff of the New York Evening Mail. After teaching at Wadsworth and Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, he became principal of the Oakland High School, CA (1871). He was professor of English literature at the University of California during 1874-1882, his health failed and then he returned to Cuyahoga Falls (1882); after which he devoted himself to his literary work, abundant and largely anonymous, until he died in Ohio (1887).


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Near The Dawn

When life's troubles gather darkly round the way we follow here,

When no hope the sad heart lightens, no voice speaks a word of cheer;

Then the thought the shadow scatters, giving us a cheering ray –

When the night appears the darkest, morning is not far away.

When adversity surrounds us,

and our sunshine friends pass by, And the dreams so fondly cherished

with our shattered treasures lie; Then amid such gloomy seasons this

sweet thought can yet be drawn, When the darkest hour is present,

It is always near the dawn.

When the spirit fluttering lingers on the confines of this life,

Parting from all joyful memories, and from every scene of strife,

Though the scene is sad and gloomy, and the body shrinks in fear,

These dark hours will soon be vanished, and the glorious morn be here.

Pain cannot affect us always,

brighter days will soon be here; Sorrow may oppress us often,

yet a happier time is near; All along our earthly journey

this reflection lights the way, — Nature's darkest hour is always Just before the break of day.

(Published in The Humbler Poets: A collection of newspaper and periodical verse, 1870-1885, Slason Thompson, 1886, pg 243.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Knapsack

(I Love to Go A-Wandering) I love to go a wandering Along a mountain track

And As I go I love to sing With my knapsack on my back.

(Chorus) Val-de-ri, Val-de-ra. Val-de-ri, Val-de-ra-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha

Val-de-ri, Val-de-ra My knapsack on my back.

(song sung in the 1940s or 1950s) * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Trees

By Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918) I Think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Let Heavens and Earth Let the heavens be glad and the earth rejoice. -1 Chr. 16:31.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Chantry of the Cherubim

By Francis William Bourdillon (1852-1921) “I walk as one unclothed of flesh,

I wash my spirit clean; I see old miracles afresh, And wonders yet unseen.

I will not leave Thee till Thou give Some word whereby my soul may live!

I listened — but no voice I heard; I looked — no likeness saw;

Slowly the joy of flower and bird Did like a tide withdraw;

And in the heaven a silent star Smiled on me, infinitely far.”

-Published in the Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse (1917)

by D.H.S. Nicholson * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Francis William Bourdillion (1852-1921) was a British poet and translator born in Runcom, Cheshire, England; educated at Worcester College, Oxford. He worked as a tutor to the sons of the Prince Christian of Schleswig-Holstein, and later he tutored at the University of Eastbourne, and lived near Midhurst, Sussex. He is known mostly for his poetry, in particular, the ‘The Night Has a Thousand Eyes’. He has many collections of published verse including Among The Flowers, And Other Poems (1878); Minuscula: lyrics of nature, art, and love (1897); Gerard and Isabel: A Romance in Form of Cantefable (1921); and also Chryseis, and Preludes and Romances (1908). In 1896 he published Nephele, a romantic novel. He also wrote other works and essays

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Frances W. Bourdillion


* * * * * * * * * * * * * The Acorn

- Katharine Tynan In small green cup an acorn grew

On tall and stately oak: The spreading leaves the secret knew,

And hid it like a cloak. The breezes rocked it tenderly, The sunbeams whispered low,

"Some day the smallest acorn here Will make an oak, you know".

The little acorn heard it all, And thought it quite a joke:

How could he dream an acorn small Would ever be an oak?

He laughed so much that presently He tumbled from his cup,

And rolled a long way from the tree, Where no one picked him up. Close by him was a rabbit hole, And when the wind blew high,

Down went the acorn with a roll For weeks in gloom to lie.

But, one bright day, a shoot of green Broke from his body dry,

And pushed it's way with longing keen To see the glorious sky. It grew and grew,

with all its might, as weeks and months rolled on: The sunbeam's words were proving right.

For, ere a year had gone, The shoot became a sturdy plant,

While now the country folk Can sit beneath the spreading leaves

Of a mighty forest oak.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Curliest Thing

The squirrel is the curliest thing I think I ever saw; He curls his back, he curls his tail, he curls each little paw.

He curls his little vest so white, His little coat so gray – He is the most curled-up wee soul, Out in the woods at play!

* * * * * * * * * * * * Thanks to Spring

-Mary Anderson We thank thee, Heavenly Father

For all the lovely spring; For primroses and bluebells,

And little birds that sing. For woods and fields to play in,

For bright blue sky and sea. For everything we thank Thee All beauty comes from Thee.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Chestnut Burr - Anon.

A wee little nut lay deep in its nest Of satin and brown, the softest and best,

And slept and grew while its cradle rocked— As it hung in the boughs that interlocked.

Now, the house was small where the cradle lay, As it swung in the winds by night and day;

For a thicket of underbrush fenced it round, This lone little cot by the great sun browned.

This little nut grew, and ere long it found There was work outside on the soft, green ground;

It must do its part, so the world might know It had tried one little seed to sow.

And soon the house that had kept it warm Was tossed about by the autumn storm;

The stem was cracked, the old house fell, And the chestnut burr was an empty shell.

But the little nut, as it waiting lay, Dreamed a wonderful dream one day,

Of how it should break its coat of brown, And live as a tree, to grow up and down. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Waking Up - Anon

Pretty little crocus, in your cozy bed, Mr. Sun is calling you, won’t you show your head?

Mother Earth has sheltered you all the winter through, Now warm winds are blowing and the skies are blue.

Little baby crocus, in his earthly bed, With the warm sun drawing him,

Popped out his tiny head; Just as he was stirring underneath the ground, Other little crocuses were looking all around. Further down the garden, by a running brook

Two little snowdrops thought they’d have a look; Saw the sun was shining and the world was gay, For unto the garden spring had come that day!

* * * * * * * * * * * * Winter Wall

-Maureen Cannon When winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

You bet it can! And, if I ever find the missing mitten, vanished boot, the scarf that’s gone the ‘nowhere’ route, I bet you almost anything

they’ll turn up in that misty, distant, dreamed-of, almost non-existent, silly, who-need-boots-this-season, SPRING!

* * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * *

At Eighty-Three - by Thomas Durley Landels (1892- )

Thank God for life, with all its endless store Of great experiences, of hill and dale, Of cloud and sunshine, tempest, snow and hail. Thank God for straining sinews, panting breast, No less for weary slumber, peaceful rest; Thank God for home and parents, children, friends, For sweet companionship that never ends: Thank God for all the splendor of the earth,

For nature teeming with prolific birth:

Thank God for sea and sky, for changing hours, For trees and singing birds and fragrant flowers.

And so in looking back at eighty-three My final word to you, my friends, shall be:

Thank God for life; and when the gift's withdrawn, Thank God for twilight bell, and coming dawn.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Thomas Durley Landels, D.D. was born at St. Marylebone, London, 1862. A Baptist minister, age 29, graduated from University College in London, England. His poem Visions, appeared in “From the Collection T.D. Trrelinger, San Francisco, CA pub. 1845. The book, The Smart Set, volume 32, by George Jean Nathan, Henry L. Mencken, states that ‘a new poet who shows a great deal more promise than the average debutante is Thomas Durley Landels, author of a volume called ‘Visions’. He is at his best in amorous lyrics; he knows how to manage a refrain effectively... his more ambitious efforts are less interesting. I use the term ‘more ambitious’ of course, as mere critical slang. Let Mr. Landels be made welcome; his summons to strum the harp

comes from the foothills just below Parnassus.” His memoirs were published in 1900. The New York Observer, Sept 1910 stated of ‘Visions’ by Thomas D. Landels: “In this small book of poems there are no poor ones. The verse is smooth and pleasing. ‘Solomon’, one of the longer poems, being the aged king’s review of his own life, is very strong. While the poems are credible and promising and worth reading, we do not find in them the ‘visions’ which the title of the book and the Prelude lead us to expect. The are good and clean and elevating, but do not capture sights or sound or thoughts beyond the reach of most of use.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Winter Messages - Sister Mary Gemma Brunke, S.C.

There’s a message in the Winter wind Draping hill and dale with drifting snow –

Our God, though unseen, still liveth, Brother Wind would have us know –

God is a pure Spirit. There’s a message in God’s handiwork –

In the perfect patterns that I see When I magnify a snowflake

Of exquisite symmetry – God is infinitely perfect.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Beauty As A Shield

- Elsie Robinson I will hold beauty as a shield against despair.

When my heart faints I will remember sights like these:

Bronze cypresses that framed a sapphire sea, A desert mesa wrapped in sunset flame,

An airplane that race the Overland Above a trail still marked with whitening bones; A path through a dim forest, hushed and sweet,

Lit by one amber beam that fell aslant; Foam, silver-laced, along a curving wave;

Sprawled golden hills, with shadows like spilled wine; Tall office buildings rearing through the night

Sheer walls of alabaster pierced with gold- And snowflakes falling on a lonely pine.

I will hold beauty as a shield against despair.

When my heart faints I will remember sights like these: The dawning wonder in a baby’s face,

The kindness in a weary wanton’s smile, The gallant challenge of a cripples’ grin, Seeing forever bodies that are straight; The fighting courage in a mother’s eyes

When she waits, braced, to meet birth’s gripping pains; The shy adoring of a boy’s first love, The eager beauty of his first crusade

Against some wrong which he alone can right – The tolerance that sometimes comes with age.

When my heart faints I will remember sights like these,

Holding their beauty as a shield against despair; For if I can see glory such as this

With my dim eyes, my undeveloped brain, And if from other darkened, selfish lives

Such flashes of brave loveliness can come, Then surely there is something more than this

Sad maze of pain, bewilderment and fear- And if there’s something, I can still hope on.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Night

- William Blake The sun descends in the West, The evening star does shine, The birds are silent in their nest, and I must seek for mine.

The moon, like a flower, in heaven’s high bower, With silent delight sits and smiles on the night.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Let the Sunshine In

Let the merry sunshine in, let the merry sunshine in; Open all the windows, open all the doors, and

Let the merry sunshine in! * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * “The Daffodils” or

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud - William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine. And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company:

I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.

* * * * * * * * * * * * William Wordsworth (1770-1850) was a major English Romantic poet who with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, helped to launch the Romantic Age in English literature with the 1798 join publication. Wordsworth’s magnum opus is generally considered to be The Prelude, a poem of his early years which he revised and expanded a number of times. He was posthumously titled and published, prior to which it was generally known as the poem ‘to Coleridge’. He was Britain’s Poet Laureate from 1843 until his death in 1850. The second of five children born to John Wordsworth and Ann Cookson, was born on April 1770 in Wordsworth House in Cockermouth, Cumberland – part of the scenic region in northwest England, the Lake District. His sister, the poet and diarist Dorothy Wordsworth, to whom he was close all his life, was born the following year, and the two were baptized together. After the death of their mother in 1778, John sent William to Grammar School in Lancashire and Dorothy to live with relatives in Yorkshire, they did not meet again for nine years. After Cocker mouth school, he was sent to a school in Penrith for the children of upper-class families. In November 1791, Wordsworth visited

Revolutionary France and became enthralled with the Republican movement. He fell in love with a French woman, Annette Vallon, who in 1792 gave birth to their child, Caroline. In 1802, he visited Calais with his sister Dorothy and met Annette and his daughter Caroline, a visit designed to prepare the way for his forthcoming marriage to Mary Hutchinson; they traveled to Germany in 1798. He wrote a number of famous poems, including ‘The Lucy poems’, his poetry is called Romantic Ballads. He was married four times: Isabella Curwen, Helen Ross, Mary Ann Dolan, Mary Gamble. In 1814 he published The Excursion as the second part of the 3-part The Recluse. He died by re-aggravating a case of pleurisy on 1850 and was buried in St. Oswald’s church in Grasmere. His widow Mary published his lengthy autobiographical ‘poem to Coleridge’ as The Prelude several months after his death. Though this failed to arouse great interest in 1850, it has since come to be recognized as his masterpiece. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Sunday Poem – Thank You, God

- Nina Stiles Life can hold such lovely things! Apple-blossom-scented springs; Purple mist of haze and heather; Books to read in stormy weather.

Common as a cookie jar, Things I hold the dearest are:

A small white house, a small brown dog; Sunlight breaking through a fog; And as sweet as summer rain,

Understanding after pain. Life holds all these lovely things. Thank you, God, for all it brings.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * The Rhodora

- Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) In May, when sea-winds pierced our solitudes,

I found the fresh Rhodora in the woods, Spreading its leafless blooms in a damp nook, To please the desert and the sluggish brook.

The purple petals, fallen in the pool, Made the black water with their beauty gay;

Here might the red-bird come his plumes to cool, And court the flower that cheapens his array.

Rhodora! if the sages ask thee why This charm is wasted on the earth and sky,

Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, Then Beauty is its own excuse for being: Why thou wert there, O rival of the rose!

I never thought to ask, I never knew: But, in my simple ignorance, suppose

The self-same Power that brought me there brought you.

* * * * * * * * * * * Ralph Waldo Emerson (1802-1882), was a key early American philosopher, poet and writer; born in Boston, Waldo, as he preferred to be called received a classical education at Boston Latin School and Harvard College, Following his father’s footsteps, he became a Unitarian minister in 1829 but experienced a religious crisis after his first wife, the beautiful and romantic Ellen Tucker, to whom he had only been married 18 months, died of tuberculosis. Resigning from the ministry and traveling to England in 1832, he became friends with Carlyle, Coleridge, and Wordsworth. Returning to America in 1834 he pursued a career in writing and public speaking. He married Lydia Jackson in 1835 and had several children, Waldo, Ellen, Edith, and Edward. A committed Abolitionist, champion of the Native Americans, a tireless crusader for peace and social justice, a supporter of educational reform, and selfless champion of other creative geniuses around him, his writings combine passion with a purity of prose. He became one of the America’s best known and best loved 19th century figures. He published several well known works. His son, Waldo passed away in 1842, and the family went abroad for a time

after that. His mother passed in 1853, his brother Bulkeley in 1849, and his brother William in 1868. The home he and Lydia (or Lidian as he called her) had lived in for 37 years burned to the ground in 1872. He traveled and lectured abroad while his friends raised funds and rebuild the home, and his library, a gift they presented the speechless poet upon his return in 1873. There he lived quietly until 1873, when he quietly passed at age 97, of pneumonia.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Plant a Tree

- Lucy Larcom (1824-1893) He who plants a tree plants a hope.

Rootlets up through fibres blindly grope; Leaves unfold into horizons free.

So man’s life must climb From the clods of time Unto heavens sublime.

Canst thou prophesy, thou little tree, What the glory of thy boughs shall be?

He who plants a tree plants a joy; Plants a comfort that will never cloy;

Every day a fresh reality, Beautiful and strong,

To whose shelter throng Creatures blithe with song.

If thou couldst but know, thou happy tree, Of the bliss that shall inhabit thee!

He who plants a tree, he plants peace. Under its green curtains jargons cease. Leaf and zephyr murmur soothingly;

Shadows soft with sleep Down tired eyelids creep,

Balm of slumber deep. Never hast thou dreamed,

thou blessed tree, Of the benediction thou shalt be.

He who plants a tree, he plants youth; Vigor won for centuries in sooth; Life of time, that hints eternity!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Lucy Larcom (1824-1893) was born in Beverly, Massachusetts, the 9th of 10 children. She worked in the cotton mills from ages 11 to 21, where her mother worked (her sea captain father having died when she was very young), and where she hoped to earn extra money for her family. As a child she studied The Pilgrim’s Progress (1678-1684) and the religious sermons of F.W. Robertson (1861-1866). While working in the mill she made a huge impact. She wrote and published many of her songs, poems, and letters describing her life at the mills. Her writings served as a model for the change in women’s role in American society. In the 1840’s she taught school in Illinois before returning to Massachusetts. From 1865 to 1873 she was editor of a magazine. She later wrote an excellent account of New England during her childhood, A New England Girlhood, Outlined from Memory (1889) which is commonly used today as a reference in studying early American childhood. Her influence is still felt in her hometown of Beverly. The local magazine The Larcom Review is named for her, and is at the library of the Beverly High School. Larcom Mountains are named after her, an area she frequently visited during the 1800’s. Her legacy extends to Lowell, Mass. where she worked as a Mill Girl at Boot Mills, and the local park Lucy Larcom Park was named in her honor.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Tall Trees

- Eileen Mathias With their feet in the earth and their heads in the sky

The tall trees watch the clouds go by When the dusk sends quickly the birds to rest

The tall trees shelter them safe in a nest And then in the night with the Tall Trees peeping, The moon shines down on a world that’s sleeping.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Apple Harvest - Helen Leuty

O down in the orchard ‘tis harvesting time, And up the tall ladders the fruit pickers climb. Among the green branches that say overhead

The apples are hanging all rosy and red. Just ripe for the picking, all juicy and sweet!

So pretty to look at and lovely to eat! * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Leaves - Anonymous

The leaves had a wonderful frolic. They danced to the wind's loud song.

They whirled, and they floated, and scampered. They circled and flew along.

The moon saw the little leaves dancing. Each looked like a small brown bird.

The man in the moon smiled and listened. And this is the song he heard.

The North Wind is calling, is calling, And we must whirl round and round, And then, when our dancing is ended,

We'll make a warm quilt for the ground. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Proud Little Spruce Fir - Jeannie Kirby

On a cold winter day the snow came down to cover the leafless trees,

Very glad they were of a snow white gown, to keep out the chilly breeze.

But a little spruce fir, all gaily dressed in tiny sharp leaves of green.

Was drooping beneath the load on its breast, and not a leaf could be seen.

“I’m an evergreen tree”, he proudly thought. “And really they ought to know that I’m looking my best,

and care not a bit how bitter the wind may blow.” * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Colour of Autumn - Adeline White

The world is full of colour! ‘Tis Autumn once again,

And leaves of gold and crimson Are lying in the lane.

There are brown and yellow acorns, Berries and scarlet haws, Amber grose and heather Purple across the moors!

Green apples in the orchard, Flushed by a glowing sun;

Mellow pears and brambles, Where coloured pheasants run!

Yellow, blue and orange, Russet, rose and red-

A gaily-coloured pagent- An Autumn flower bed.

Beauty of light and shadow, Glory of wheat and rye, Colour of shining water

Under a sunset sky! * * * * * * * * * * *

Autumn Morning - Adeline White

The south-west wind is blowing, A red fox hurries by; A lake of silver water

Reflects a rainbow sky! The morning sun is shining

Upon the golden corn; An early blackbird wakens

And sings to greet the dawn! * * * * * * * * *

Autumn Song October is a piper

Piping down the dell- Sad sweet songs of sunshine-

Summer’s last farewell, He pipes till gray November Comes in the mist and rain,

And then he puts his pipe away, Till Autumn comes again.

* * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

An Autumn Morning It seems like a dream in the garden today;

The trees, once so green, with rich colours are gay. The oak is aglow with a warm, crimson blush The maple leaves show a deep purple flush.

The elm tree with bold yellow patches is bright, And with pale gleaming gold the beech seems alight.

And the creeper leaves flare like red flame on the wall; Their dazzle and glare is the brightest of them all. The big chestnut trees are all russet and brown, And everywhere leaves one by one flutter down. And all the leaves seem to be dressed up so gay, That it seems like a dream in the garden today.

Note: found online at www.lanterncommunity.org. Says that ‘this poem was inspired by a trip to Stourhead by Dell Cottage.’

* * * * * * * * * * Autumn Lullaby - Eudora S. Burnstead

"The sun has gone from the shining skies, Bye, baby, bye.

The dandelions have closed their eyes, Bye, baby, bye.

The stars are lighting their lamps to see, If babies and squirrels and birds and bees,

Are sound asleep as they should be, Bye, baby, bye.

The squirrel keeps warm in his furs of gray, Bye, baby, bye.

'Neath feathers, birdies are tucked away, Bye, baby, bye.

In yellow jackets, the bees sleep tight, And cuddle close through the chilly night,

My baby's snug in her gown of white, Bye, baby, bye.

The squirrel nests in a big oak tree, Bye, baby, bye. He finds a hole in the trunk, you see,

Bye, baby, bye. The robin's home is a nest o'erhead, The bees, they nest in a hive instead,

My baby's nest is her little bed, Bye, baby, bye." * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Night Sky All day long the sun shines bright,

The moon and stars come out by night, From twilight time they live the skies, And watch the world with quiet eyes.

* * * * * * * * * * * * I See the Moon

I see the moon, the moon sees me, God bless the moon, and God bless me.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * September - Mary Howitt

There are twelve months throughout the year, From January to December -

And the primest month of all the twelve Is the merry month of September! The apples so red hang overhead,

And the nuts ripe-brown Come showering down

In the bountiful month of September!

There are flowers enough in the summer-time, More flowers than I can remember —-

But none with the purple, gold, and red That dye the flowers of September! The gorgeous flowers of September!

And the sun looks through A clearer blue, and the moon at night

Sheds a clearer light On the beautiful flowers of September!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

October - Sarah Helen Whitman

I love to wander through the woodlands hoary, In the soft light of an Autumnal day,

When summer gathers up her robes of glory, And, like a dream of beauty, glides away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

November -Margaret Rose

November is a spinner Spinning in the mist,

Weaving such a lovely web Of gold and amethyst. In among the shadows

She spins till close of day, Then quietly she folds her hands

And puts her work away.

* * * * * * * * * There’s Snow On the Fields

- Christina Rossetti There’s snow on the fields, and cold in the cottage,

While I sit in the chimney nook sipping hot pottage, My clothes are soft and warm, fold upon fold, But I’m so sorry for the poor out in the cold.

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Jack Frost

- Gabriel Setoun The door was shut, as doors should be,

Before you went to bed last night; Yet Jack Frost has got in, you see, And left your window silver white. He must have waited till you slept; And not a single word he spoke,

But pencilled o'er the panes and crept Away again before you woke.

And now you cannot see the hills Nor fields that stretch beyond the lane; But there are fairer things than these

His fingers traced on every pane.

Rocks and castles towering high; Hills and dales, and streams and fields;

And knights in armor riding by, With nodding plumes and shining shields.

And here are little boats, and there Big ships with sails spread to the breeze;

And yonder, palm trees waving fair On islands set in silver seas.

And butterflies with gauzy wings; And herds of cows and flocks of sheep; And fruit and flowers and all the things

You see when you are sound asleep.

For creeping softly underneath The door when all the lights are out,

Jack Frost takes every breath you breathe, And knows the things you think about. He paints them on the window pane

In fairy lines with frozen steam; And when you wake you see again

The lovely things you saw in dream. * * * * * * * * * * *

Winter Joys - Dorothy Gradon

White stars falling gentle, softly down to earth, Red fires burning brightly in the warm and cozy hearth.

White trees changed to elfin-laud, By red sun’s dazzling glow,

Little robin redbreasts hopping in the snow. Happy children’s voices, shouting loud with glee,

Oh! The joys of winter are wonderful to me. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Midwinter

-Margaret E. Bruner My window looks upon a world grown gray,

Where grim trees seem like troubled men in prayer; Smoke pours from chimneys, telling the day

Is drear-that piercing winds have chilled the air. No songbird trills- only the sparrows wait

Hunched in their feathers, for the proffered crumb; It is as if some stern, relentless fate

Had gripped the earth and left it tired and numb. Even the far-off whistling of a train

Sounds weary, dwindles to a ghostly wail; Does all the world reflect war's gloomy strain. Wondering what foes, what evils may assail?

But spring will come- of this there is no doubt, With blossoming bough... if mankind would implore

The powers that be to put war's curse to rout, Could peace not bloom, too, in the world once more?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The North Wind - unknown

The Snow Queen comes on dazzling feet, and brings the sparkling snows, The clouds fly fast with icy sleet,

and the North Wind blows. Robin is singing a brave little song,

the sweetest song he knows, But winter nights are dark and long,

and the North wind blows. Squirrels are sleeping in hollow tree,

seeds are asleep below; Baby is cozy as can be;

Let the North wind blow! * * * * * * * * * * *

The New Year - Horatio Nelson Powers

A flower unblown; a book unread; A tree with fruit unharvested;

A path untrod; a house whose rooms lack yet the heart’s divine perfumes; A landscape whose wide border lies In silent shade, ‘neath silent skies;

A treasure with its gifts concealed – This is the year that for you waits Beyond Tomorrow’s mystic gates.

* * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * The Old Year - Clarence Urmy

What is the Old Year? 'Tis a book On which we backward sadly look,

Not willing quite to see it close, For leaves of violet and rose

Within its heart are thickly strewn, Marking love's dawn and golden noon; And turned-down pages, noting days

Dimly recalled through Memory's haze. And tear-stained pages, too, that tell Of starless nights and mournful knell

Of bells tolling through trouble's air The De Profundis of depair -

The laugh, the tear, the shine, the shade, All 'twixt the covers gently laid;

No uncut leaves; no page unscanned; Close it and lay it in God's hand. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The North Wind - unknown

The North wind doth blow, and we shall have snow, And what will poor robin do then, poor thing?

O, he’ll go to the barn, and to keep himself warm, He’ll hide his head under his wing, poor thing.

The North wind doth blow, and we shall have snow, And what will the swallow do then, poor thing?

O, do you not know, He’s gone long ago To a country much warmer than ours poor thing?

The north wind doth bow, and we shall have snow, And what will the dormouse do then, poor thing?

Rolled up in a ball in his nest snug and small, He’ll sleep ‘till the winter is past, poor thing?

The North wind doth blow, and we shall have snow, And what will the children do then, poor things?

O, when lessons are done, they’ll jump, skip, and run, And play ‘till they make themselves warm, poor things.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

All Seasons Shall Be Sweet - S.T. Coleridge

Therefore, all seasons shall be sweet to thee, Whether the summer clothe the general earth,

With greenness, or redbreast sit and sing, Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch,

Of mossy apple tree, while the nigh thatch smokes in the sun-thaw;

Whether the eve-drops fall, Heard only in the trances of the blast,

or if the secret ministry of frost, Shall hand them up in silent icicles, Quietly shining to the quiet moon.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Yellow Bird

-Lyrics written by: Marilyn Keith & Alan Bergman Copyright: Walton Music Corporation

Yellow bird, Up high in banana tree, Yellow bird, You sit all alone like me

Did your lady friend leave de nest again? Dat is very sad, Make me feel so bad,

You can fly away, In the sky away, You're more lucky dan me.


I also have a pretty gal, She not with me today, Dey all de same de pretty gal,

Make dem de nest, Den dey fly away.


Wish dat I were a yellow bird, I fly away wid you, But I am not a yellow bird,

So here I sit, Nothin' else to do. Yellow bird, Up high in banana tree,

Yellow bird, You sit all alone like me Let her fly away, On de sky away,

Picker coming soon, Pick from night to noon, Black and yellow you, Like banana too,

He might pick you someday. Yellow bird, Up high in banana tree,

Yellow bird, You sit all alone like me. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Robin Redbreast - George W. Doane

Sweet Robin, I have heard them say That thou wert there upon the day

The Christ was crowned in cruel scorn And bore away one bleeding thorn, - That so the blush upon thy breast,

In shameful sorrow, was impressed;

And thence thy genial sympathy With our redeemed humanity.

Sweet Robin, would that I might be Bathed in my Saviour's blood, like thee;

Bear in my breast, whate'er the loss,

The bleeding blazon of the cross; Live ever, with thy loving mind, In fellowship with human-kind;

And take my pattern still from thee, In gentleness and constancy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Hummingbird, Hummingbird

- Song of the 1950’s Hummingbird, hummingbird should be your name

Too restless to settle, too wild to tame Too restless to settle, too wild to tame

Hummingbird, hummingbird should be your name. Hummingbird, hummingbird winging along

No tender young blossom can hold you for long No tender young blossom can hold you for long

Hummingbird, hummingbird winging along.

You’d hug me and kiss me like others I’ve known, You’d promise to love me and call me your own Then all of my dreams would be shattered apart By the hum hum of your hummingbird heart. Hummingbird, hummingbird feathered so fine

If I clipped your wings it would not make you mind If I clipped your wings it would not make you mind

Hummingbird, hummingbird, feathered so fine.

Hummingbird, hummingbird fly right on by Some folks like to gamble, but darling not I Some folks like to gamble, but darling not I

Hummingbird, hummingbird, fly right on by. I’d rather by lonely, I’d rather be blue.

Yes, I’d rather spend my whole life without you. Then feather a nest to be shattered apart.

By the hum, hum of your hummingbird heart, By the hum, hum of your hummingbird heart.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Fragile Moments (Yellowstone)

- Mildred Tenbom Our family was resting in Yellowstone Park, homeward bound for California after a 3000-mile vacation trip. With six persons cooped up in the car for so many days, little habits and idiosyncrasies began to irritate each of us. These shortcomings loomed so large I was quite convinced that, as a Christian and a mother, I was a failure. Dejected, I left the family and walked across the campgrounds to the amphitheater overlooking Yellowstone Lake. It lay calm, blue-green, shimmering and sparkling with the rays of the setting sun. On the opposite side of the lake, far in the distance, the Teton Mountains were boldly etched against the sky. But it was the trees around the amphitheater that caught my

attention: slender lodge-pole pine, bushy spruce and sweeping firs, rustling poplars. I let my eyes dwell on their beauty. Then I began to study each tree in detail. Not one was perfectly straight. Two whose tops had been heavily laden with snow were arched like a bow. One tall beauty was marred because its top was only a skeleton of naked, twisted branches. A few had split trunks. One was knobby with warts. Suddenly I realized that nature’s norm is not perfection. Yet, despite the imperfections, viewed as a whole, the forest was wondrously beautiful. Startled, I realized that for the children of God, perfection is not the norm either. In my pursuit of the highest for myself and my family, I had become so absorbed with faults that I could not be cheered and uplifted by the worthy aspects. Now, as I headed back to my family I prayed that God would more often help me see the beauty of my young forest.


* * * * * * * * * * * Mockingbird Hill

- Burl Ives When the sun in the morning peeps over the hill

And kisses the roses 'round my window sill Then my heart fills with gladness when I hear the trill

Of the birds in the treetops on Mockingbird Hill (Chorus)

Tra la la, tweedle dee dee dee it gives me a thrill To wake up in the morning to the mockingbird's trill

Tra la la tweedle dee dee dee there's peace and good will You're welcome as the flowers on Mockingbird Hill

Got a three-cornered plow and an acre to till And a mule that I bought for a ten-dollar bill

There's a tumble-down shack and a rusty old mill But it's my Home Sweet Home up on Mockingbird Hill

(Chorus) Tra la la, tweedle dee dee dee it gives me a thrill

To wake up in the morning to the mockingbird's trill Tra la la tweedle dee dee dee there's

peace and good will You're welcome as the flowers on Mockingbird Hill

When it's late in the evening I climb up the hill

And survey all my kingdom while everything's still Only me and the sky and an old whippoorwill

Singin' songs in the twilight on Mockingbird Hill Tra la la, tweedle dee dee dee it gives me a thrill

To wake up in the morning to the mockingbird's trill Tra la la tweedle dee dee dee there's peace and good will

You're welcome as the flowers on Mockingbird Hill * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * The Five-Fingered Maple

- Kate Louise Brown Green leaves, what are you doing

up there on the tree so high? We are shaking hands with the breezes,

as they go singing by. What, green leaves! Have you fingers?

Then the Maple laughed with glee; Yes, just as many as you have,

Count us, and you will see! * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Shady Woods - EM Adams

When the sun is shining overhead ‘tis nice to make a leafy bed Deep in the shady wood; to lie and gaze towards the sky

Peeping through the leaves on high, above the shady wood. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Little Purple Pansies

- Anon Music: Joseph Ballantyne, 1868, 1944 Little purple pansies touched with yellow gold

Growing in one corner of the garden old; We are very tiny but must try, try, try; Just one spot to gladden, you and I.

In whatever corner we may chance to grow, Whether cold or warm the wind may ever blow,

Dark the day or sunny, we must try, try, try Just one spot to gladden, you and I.

* * * * * * * * * * * Little Drops of Water

- Mrs. J. A. Carney (1845) Little drops of water, Little grains of sand

Make the mighty ocean, And the beauteous land.

Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love, Make our earth an Eden, Like the heaven above And the little moments, Humble though they be -

Make the mighty ages Of eternity. * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * We Thank You Lord

by Mary Eleanor Pitney (1891-1995) Thank You, dear Father, for each day

On earth You let me live, For the many joys and blessings

And pleasures that You give. The lovely spring time - new each year

With the budding of the trees, Bright blossoms blooming everywhere

To delight the honey bees. White capped peaks and gleaming

meadows, Songbirds caroling with mirth And Your forest babies waking From the bosom of the earth. Azure skies and brilliant sunsets

Diamond studded morning dews, For Your many earthly wonders

Our eternal thanks to You. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mary E. Pitney was born in 1891 in Junction City, Oregon, and died in 1995 in Junction City, Oregon. The Pitney House Museum was the home of Mary Pitney (1891-1995), a school teacher, published poet, painter, world traveler, and humanitarian. Born and raised in this house, she also lived the later years of her life here. Volunteers continue to restore the house, and have furnished it with Mary's original furniture. In addition, Junction City's first jail was moved next door in 1998. The Pitney House Museum, located at 289 W. Fourth Avenue in Junction City, Oregon.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Whispers of Love

- Clay Harrison Ribbons of sunlight slip under my door;

Crawl over the table, across the dark floor, I sense they are there, and open my eyes,

I draw wide the curtain to clear crimson skies I open my windows how warm is the breeze;

Now the chirping of birds resounds from the trees. The fragrance of roses passes my way

And a bright morning star greets the new day. The earth is the Lord’s from mountain to sea, And I have been blessed, just watching a bee!

The gift that God gives us comes from above to fill hearts and minds with whispers of Love.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Everywhere I Look

- Grace E. Easley

Everywhere I look I find Some wondrous handiwork of Thine.

Every single day I see Some lovely thin you’ve given me.

My heart almost overflows At the sight of velvet rose.

Lacy fern, and birds that sing. Lord, You give me everything.

As the early morning breeze

Softly stirs through leafy trees. Comes the dawn all steeped in gold. More than my two arms can hold. Silver stars throughout the night. Purple shadows, pale moonlight. Turn my thoughts again to Thee. Lord, I fear You’re spoiling me.

Everywhere I look I find Beauty of the richest kind.

Little joys throughout the day, Almost take my breathe away. How very precious I must be,

That You should have such love for me. And in each cranny, smallest nook,

I find You, everywhere I look. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the Woods - Marion Shoeberlein

I do not need a clock in this green place, God is my time with his eternal face,

The trees are tall and strong, the sweet birds sing.

And silence seems to shine on everything. The sunlight fills my heart, it leads the way,

Like the finger of God this summer day. It’s a beautiful world I make my own

Walking with God in the woods alone. * * * * * * * * * * * *

So This is Life

- Loretta Inman So this is life, I tell myself while the sweet morn fades away.

So this is life, ineffable and precious – a living key. To unlock an empty day, to be filled with fruitful labor

That will last eternity. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Seattle

Sung by Perry Como The bluest skies you’ve ever seen are in Seattle And the hills are the greenest green in Seattle Like a beautiful child, growing up, free an' wild Full of hopes an' full of fears, full of laughter,

full of tears Full of dreams to last the years, in Seattle

. . . in Seattle! When it's time to leave your home

and your loved ones It's the hardest thing a boy can ever do

An' you pray that you will find someone warm an' sweet an' kind

But you're not sure what's waiting there for you!

The bluest skies you've ever seen are in Seattle And the hills the greenest green, in Seattle

Like a beautiful child, growing up, free an' wild Full of hopes an' full of fears, full of laughter, full of tears

Full of dreams to last the years, in Seattle . . . in Seattle!

When you find your own true love, you will know it By her smile, by the look in her eye

Scent of pine trees in the air, never knew a day so fair It makes you feel so proud that you could cry!

The bluest skies you've ever seen are in Seattle

And the hills the greenest green, in Seattle Like a beautiful child, growing up, free an' wild

Full of hopes an' full of fears, full of laughter, full of tears Full of dreams to last the years, in Seattle

. . . in Seattle! ~ from the Screen Gems TV production "Here Come the Brides"

Words and Music by Hugo Montenegro * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Smell The Roses Under Ones Feet You are not likely to find the flowers of happiness around the corner,

If you fail to see those now at your feet. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Art Imitates Nature All art is but an imitation of nature.

* * * * * * * * * * * Find Beauty in our Backyard

Unless we find beauty and happiness in our backyard, we will never find them in the mountains.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Take Time To Live

- Mary Eleanor Pitney Take time to live to glimpse

The beauty a world has to give. Deep emerald grace of a stately pine.

A sunset painted by God divine A sparkle of dew on grass blades at dawn.

The soulful eyes of a tiny fawn soft feathery snow On an evergreen bough

Good fertile earth as it falls from the plough Are bits of beauty

The world has to give time to live. * * * * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Jubilee

- Esther Nelsson How good it is to be alive,

With beauty pouring from the earth! What matters failure if we strive?

How good it is to be alive! Living is sweet, if we contrive

To make a blessing of our birth, How good it is to be alive,

With beauty pouring from the earth! * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sunshine and Rain - Charles H. Gabriel

Had we only sunshine all the year around, Without the blessing of refreshing rain,

Would we scatter seed upon the fallow ground, And hope to gather flowers, fruit, and grain?

Refrain: Sunshine and rain, refreshing, reviving rain, Light of faith and love, showers from above!

Sunshine and rain, to nourish the growing grain, Send us, Lord, the sunshine and the rain.

Had we not a sorrow or a cross to bear For Him who bore the burden of our sin,

Would we know the sweetness of His love and care, Or even strive eternal joys to win?

Can we prize the sunshine and deplore the rain, Repining when the days are dark and drear? Can we hope for pleasure, yet deny the pain,

Or share the joys of life without the tear?

* * * * * * * * * * * The Wind in the Grass

- Ralph W. Emerson The green grass is bowing - the morning wind is in it.

‘Tis a tune worth the knowing - though it changes every minute. * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Red River Valley

- song written in the 1940’s From this valley they say you are going

We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile For they say you are taking the sunshine That has brightened our path for a while. Come and sit by my side if you love me

Do not hasten to bid me adieu But remember the Red River Valley

And the cowboy who loved you so true.

Won’t you think of the valley you’re leaving Oh how lonely, how sad it will be?

Oh think of the fond heart you’re breaking And the grief you are causing to me

As you go to your home by the ocean May you never forget those sweet hours That we spent in the Red River Valley

And the love we exchanged mid the flowers.

* * * * * * * * * * Little Things

- Eileen Mathias From a little seed a flower grows,

From a little flower a fragrance blows – A little fragrance that’s wafted to me,

As I lie in the shade of the chestnut tree. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Land Of Our Birth - Rudyard Kipling

Land of our Birth, we pledge to thee, our love and toil in the years to be,

When we are grown and take our place as men and women with our race. Father in Heaven who lovest all,

oh help Thy children when they call; That they may build from age to age,

and undefiled heritage! Teach us to bear the yoke in youth, with steadfastness and careful truth;

That in our time, Thy Grace may give the truth whereby the Nations live. Teach us to rule ourselves always,

controlled and cleanly night and day;

That we may bring, if need arise, no maimed or worthless sacrifice.

* * * * * * * * * * * Nature brings happiness

Joy in looking and comprehending is nature’s most beautiful gift. Albert Einstein

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * *

My Land - Thomas Davis

She is a rich and rare land; O! she’s a fresh and fair land: She is a dear and rare land- This native land of mine.

No men than hers are braver – Her women’ hearts ne’er waver;

I’d freely die to save her, And think my lot divine.

She’s not a dull or cold land;

No! She’s a warm and bold land; O! she’s a true and old land –

This native land of mine. Could beauty ever guard her,

And virtue still reward her, No foe would cross her border –

No friend within it pine!

O! she’s a fresh and fair land, O! she’s a true and rare land!

Yes, she’s a rare and fair land – This native land of mine.

* * * * * * * * * * No Regrets

By Agnes Sligh Turnbull There is only one thing about which I shall

have no regrets when my life ends. I have savored to the full all the small, daily joys.

The bright sunshine on the breakfast table; the smell of the air at dusk;

the sound of the clock ticking; the light rains that start gently after midnight;

the hour when the family come home; Sunday evening tea before the fire!

I have never missed one moment of beauty, not ever taken it for granted.

Spring, summer, autumn, or winter. I wish I had failed as little in other ways.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Sweet Surprises

- S. Daudney A dance of blue-bells in the shady places,

A crimson flush of sunset in the west; The cobwebs, delicate as fairy laces;

The sudden finding of a wood-bird nest. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * Harmony

- Thomas Grant Springer In the far spaces of eternity,

the planets swing; each following some sun, In perfect rhythm, each and every one,

The singing spheres keep time to harmony. And this, our little earth, swings with its moon

To the sure rhythm of the Master Hand Whose unseen movements are Divine command

To which the silent symphony must attune. One discord and the Universe would fall;

One false note in the measured march of Time, One halt, one pause in rhythm or in rhyme,

And then wild chaos would engulf us all.

But still they move in perfect harmony, The near, cold moon, the farthest, unseen star;

There is perfection in each note and bar Of the great paeon of eternity.

Only we trivial crawlers on the earth Abound in discord, jangle out of tune, Defy the majesty of night and noon,

And mock the very symphony of birth.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Country Faith

- Norman Gale Here in the country’s heart where the grass is green,

Life is the same sweet life as it e’er hath been. Trust in a God still lives, and the bell at morn

Floats with a thought of God o’er the rising corn. God comes down in the rain,

and the crop grows tall— This is the country faith, and the best of all!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Praise

- Mary Anderson Praise the Lord for all the seasons, Praise Him for the gentle spring,

Praise the Lord for glorious summer, Birds and beasts and everything,

Praise the Lord Who sends the harvest, Praise Him for the winter snows;

Praise the Lord, all ye who love Him, Praise Him, for all things He knows.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Rendezvous

- Mary Scott Fitzgerald For just a brief while every day

I steal away from duty And leave the indoor tasks undone

To keep a tryst with beauty.

Bird-song and lily-bell Tinkling thin and sweet;

Sun-gold and starry bloom Flashing at my feet;

Cool mist, with crystal beads Gleaming everywhere

Wild plum and pink thorn Hanging on the air.

Swiftly, then, I can return To tread the rounds of duty,

Since for one fleet breath I stood Hand-in-hand with beauty.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Open Your Eyes

-- Emma Boge Whisenand Open your eyes that you may see The beauty that around you lies, The misty loveliness of the dawn, The glowing colors of the skies;

The Child's bright eager eyes of blue, The gnarled and wrinkled face of age,

The bird with crimson on his wing Whose spirit never knew a cage;

The roadsides blooming goldenrod So brave through summer's wind and heat,

The brook that rushes to the sea With courage that naught may defeat.

Open your eyes that you may see The wonder that around you lies;

It will enrich your every day And make you glad and kind and wise.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Forget-Me-Not

- Emily Bruce Roelofson Forget-Me-Not When to the flowers so beautiful the Father gave a name, Back came a little blue-eyed one (All timidly it came); And

standing at its Father's feet and gazing in His face, It said, in low and trembling tone and with a modest grace, "Dear God, the name Thou

gavest me, Alas I have forgot!" Kindly the Father looked him down and said: "Forget-me-not."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Marigolds

- Louise Driscoll Do you like marigolds? If you do then

my garden is gay for you! I’ve been cutting their fragrant stalks

Where they lean on the garden walks.

The head’s too heavy for the brittle stem, A careless touch and you’ve broken them.

Each one shines like a separate star Set in some heaven where gardens are.

My hands smell of the herb-like scent,

Telling what garden way I went. Pungent, Vivid and strong, they stay Long after summer has gone away.

Do you like marigolds? Here’s a pledge:

To meet the frost with a golden edge- To go as far as a weak thing may Linking tomorrow with yesterday.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Larch Wood Secrets - Ivy O. Eastwick

In Larch Wood is a little gray pool; I go there when the day is cool,

And when I see the sea-gulls Come flying down the sky Then I know that winter

And the cold days are nigh.

In larch wood there are growing Seven larches, one green hazel

And two silver birches; And when I hear the squirrel Chitter-chattering to the sky, Then I know that May-time

And the warm days are night. * * * * * * * * *

Bluebells - O Enoch

In the bluebell forest there is scarce a sound, Only bluebells growing everywhere around. I can’t see a blackbird or a thrush to sing,

I think I can almost hear the bluebells ring. Oh! There is a bunny, and he’s listening too, Or perhaps he’s thinking- what a sea of blue!

* * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * A Buttercup

- by K.C. A little yellow buttercup stood

laughing in the sun; The grass all green around it, the summer had just begun; Its saucy little head abrim with happiness and fun.

Nearby - grown old and gone to seed, a dandelion grew;

To right and left with every breeze his snowy tresses flew.

He shook his hoary head, and said: “I’ve some advice for you.”

“Don’t think because you’re yellow now that golden days will last;

I was as gay as you are once, But now my youth is past,

This day will be my last to bloom; The hours are going fast.”

“Perhaps your fun may last a week, but then you’ll have to die.”

The dandelion cased to speak A breeze that capered by

Snatched all the white hairs from his Head and wafted them on high.

His yellow neighbor first looked sad, Then, cheering up, he said;

“If one’s to live in fear of death one might as well be dead.”

The little buttercup laughed on, And waved his golden head.

(From St. Nicholas, Vol. 4 by Mary Mapes Dodge, 1880, pg 719.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Poppies

- P.A. Ropes The strange bright dancers are in the garden

The wind of summer is a soft music Scarlet and orange, flaming and golden

The strange bright dancers move to music. And some are whiter than snow in winter,

And float like snowflakes drifting in the garden. Oh, have you seen them, the strange, bright dancers

Nodding and swaying to the wind’s music? * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * A Field Flower

- James Montgomery, 1803, (written after finding one in full bloom on

Christmas day) There is a flower, a little flower, With silver crest and golden eye,

That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky.

The prouder beauties of the field In gay but quick succession shine, Race after race their honors yield,

They flourish and decline.

But this small flower, to Nature dear,

While moons and stars their courses run, Wreathes the whole circle of the year,

Companion of the sun. On waste and woodland, rock and plain

Its humble buds unheeded rise; The rose has but a summer reign,

The daisy never dies. Taken from The Wanderer of

Switzerland, and other poems, by James Montgomery.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Buttercups and Daisies

~Mary Howitt Buttercups and daisies - oh the pretty flowers,

Coming ere the springtime to tell of sunny hours. While the trees are leafless, while the fields are bare,

Buttercups and daisies spring up here and there. Ere the snowdrop peepeth, e’re the croscus bold,

Ere the early primrose opens its paly gold, Somewhere on a sunny bank buttercups are bright;

Somewhere 'mong the frozen grass peeps the daisy white. Little hardy flowers like to children poor,

playing in their sturdy health By their mother's door: purple with the north wind,

Yet alert and bold; fearing not and caring not, Though they be a-cold. what to them is weather!

What are stormy showers! Buttercups and daisies

Are these human flowers! He who gave them hardship And a life of care, gave them likewise hardy strength,

And patient hearts, to bear. Welcome yellow buttercups, Welcome daisies white, ye are in my spirit

Visioned, a delight! coming ere the springtime Of sunny hours to tell - Speaking to our hearts of Him

Who doeth all things well. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


Sowing Seeds - Ursula Cornwall

I’ve dug up all my garden and got the watering pan,

And packets full of seeds I mean to sow; I’ll have marigolds and pansies,

and Canterbury bells, And asters all set neatly in a row, I’ll have mignonette and stocks, and some tall red hollyhocks,

If sun and rain will come to help them grow. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Day - Grace Noll Crowell

The day will bring some lovely thing, I say it over each new dawn,

Some gay, adventurous thing to hold Against my heart when it is gone,

And so I rise and go to meet The day with wings upon my feet.

I come upon it unaware, Some sudden beauty without name,

A snatch of song, a breath of pine,

A poem lit with golden flame- High tangled bird notes keenly thinned,

Like flying color on the wind. No day has ever failed me, quite Before the grayest day is done,

I come upon some misty bloom, Or a late line of crimson sun.

Each night I pause, remembering, Some gay, adventurous, lovely thing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Trees

~Sarah Coleridge The Oak is called the king of trees, The Aspen quivers in the breeze,

The Poplar grows up straight and tall, The Peach tree spreads along the wall,

The Sycamore gives pleasant shade, The Willow droops in watery glade, The Fir tree useful in timber gives, The Beech amid the forest lives.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Flower Chorus by Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882)

O such a commotion under the ground, When March called "Ho, there! ho!"

Such spreading of rootlets far and wide, Such whisperings to and fro!

"Are you ready?" the Snowdrop asked "Almost, my dear!" the Scilla replied,

"I'll follow as soon as you go", Of laughter sweet and low

From millions of flowers under the ground, Yes, millions beginning to grow.

"I'll promise my blossoms,"

the Crocus said, "When I hear the blackbird sing"

And straight thereafter Narcissus cried "My silver and gold I'll bring."

"And ere they are dulled" another spoke But the Violet only murmured "I'm here"

And sweet grew the air of spring. Then Ha! ha! ha! a chorus came

Of laughter sweet and low, From millions of flowers under the ground,

Yes, millions beginning to grow. O the pretty brave things

thro' the coldest days Imprisoned in walls of brown,

They never lost heart tho' the blast shrieked loud

And the sleet and the hail came down; But patiently each wrought

her wonderful dress Or fashioned her beautiful crown.

And now they are coming to lighten the world Still shadowed by winter's frown,

And well may they cheerily laugh "Ha! ha!" In laughter sweet and low,

The millions of flowers under the ground, Yes, millions beginning to grow.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ralph Waldo Emerson was born on May 25, 1803 in Boston, Massachusetts. He is widely regarded as one of America's most influential authors, philosophers and thinkers. At one time a Unitarian minister, Emerson left his pastorate because of doctrinal disputes with his superiors. Soon after, on a trip to Europe, he met a number of intellectuals, including Thomas Carlyle and William Wordsworth. * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Snowdrops

- Laurence Alma-Tadema Little ladies, white and green, With your spears about you,

Will you tell us where you've been Since we lived without you?

You are sweet, and fresh and clean, With your pearly faces;

In the dark earth where you've been, There are wondrous places;

Yet you come again, serene, When the leaves are hidden;

Bringing joy from where you've been, You return unbidden

Little ladies, white and green, Are you glad to cheer us?

Hunger not for where you've been, Stay till Spring be near us!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Snow Drops

- Joan Slater There is this little flower

which blooms when others die? And bravely lifts its little head

towards the winter sky. And thought it scarcely can be seen

amide the sparkling snow It’s blooming there to cheer us as

on our way we go.

And so in life’s dark winter when troubles come and go Let us be like the snowdrops blooming in the snow.

Let’s cheer each other onward when days are full of strife; And brighten like the snowdrops the darkest days of life.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Memory Has Painted A Perfect Day

- Carrie James Bond For memory has painted this perfect day;

With colors that never fade, And we find at the end of a perfect day;

The soul of a friend we've made. * * * * * * * * * * *

Never Give Up - George Eliot

“It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive, there are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good,

and we must hunger after them.” * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Until Today - unknown

I did not understand the miracle of spring, Or realize why seasons had their way,

I did not comprehend the theme of Easter Or see the good on earth – until today. I have not lived so nobly as I should,

Mistakes and tears have scarred the years away, I did not think that life was dear to me Or know I could have joy – until today.

I had thought that I had suffered much;

To false ideals and dreams I felt a prayer; My hurt was past repairing and I knew No solace could be mine – until today.

But today I look at spring and know the answers, Lilies in the field help show the way

Easter is remembering our Savior who gave His life that man might live – always.

And now I know that someone cared enough About the sheep who fall and go astray

To give them one more chance at true repentance. And that is what I hope to do today.

One need not die, to live and love again, I know that now, for when i knelt to pray,

My heart was filled with joy and peace; I knew that THIS way my resurrection day.

* * * * * * * * * * * Blooms

- Anne Seden Sights and sounds and touch and taste awaken blooms, as

spring is plucked up by fluffy white clouds, reflecting light to spin into a multitude of brightly colored threads ...

patterns tightly interlaced by the warp and woof of nature’s busy loom.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * At Sunset

- Ivy O. Eastwick In the evening the sun goes down

And the lamps are lit in the little town. The bats fly low round the grey church dome,

And the thrush and the blackbird are safely home – Are safely home in their quiet nest –

The thrush and the blackbird are both at rest! * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * The Growing River

- Rodney Bennett At first, the river’s very small, and can’t float anything at all; But later, as it journeys on,

it’s large enough to float a swan. It grows till it can safely float

a slim canoe, and then a boat; And later still, as like as not, it manages to float a yacht.

And presently, when really large, it takes a streamer, then a barge, And last it passes busy quays and floats great ships to foreign seas.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


Silly Sayings

Nursery Rhymes & Birthday Sayings

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Monkey Poem

Three monkeys sat in a coconut tree, Discussing some things that are said to be;

Said one to the others, “Now listen you two, There’s a rumor that certainly cannot be true --

That man descended from our noble race, The very idea is a total disgrace!”

“No monkey ever deserted his wife,

Starved her babies, and ruined her life! And you’ve never known a mother monk Leave her babies with others, - and bunk!

Or pass them on from one to another, Till they scarcely know who is their mother.”

“Another thing that you never would see,

Is a monk build a fence round his coconut tree, Forbidding all other monkeys from taking,

For then they would all become thieves in the making! If I were to put a fence round my tree,

Starvation would force them to steal from me!”

“Here’s another thing a monkey won’t do; Go out late at night and get in a stew,

Using a gun, a club or a knife, To take some other monkey’s life!

Yes, man descended! - the ornery cuss; But, brothers! - he didn’t descend from us!”

-Unknown Author

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * ** * * * Clothes Line

A clothesline was a news forecast to neighbors passing by.

There were no secrets you could keep when clothes were hung to dry.

It also was a friendly link for neighbors always knew If company had stopped on by to spend a night or two.

For when you'd see the fancy sheets and towels upon the line

You'd see the company table cloths with intricate design.

The line announced a baby's birth to folks who lived inside, As brand new infant clothes were

hung so carefully with pride.

The ages of the children could so readily be known by watching how the sizes changed you'd

know how much they'd grown. It also told when illness struck, as extra sheets

were hung; The nightclothes, and a bathrobe, too,

haphazardly were strung. It said, "Gone on vacation now" when lines hung

limp and bare. It told, "We're back!" when full lines sagged with

not an inch to spare.

New folks in town were scorned upon if wash was dingy grey, As neighbors raised their brows, and looked disgustedly away. But clotheslines now are of the past, for dryers make work less.

Now what goes on inside the home is anybody's guess. I really miss that way of life, it was a friendly sign

When neighbors knew each other best by what hung on the line. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A Good Laugh A good laugh is sunshine in the house.

* * * * * * * * * A Child is a Lamp

A child is not a vessel to be filled, but a lamp to be lighted. * * * * * * * * * *

God gave us memories God has given us memories that we may have roses in December.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Hearsay and Gossip

- Anonymous In every town, in every street,

in nearly every house you meet A little imp, who wriggles in,

with half a sneer and half a grin, And climbs upon your rocking

chair or creeps upon you anywhere. And when he gets you very near

just whispers something in your ear,

Some rumor or another’s shame, and little ‘Hearsay’ is his name.

He never really claims to know. he’s only heard that it is so;

And then he whispers it to you; so you will go and whisper too.

For if enough is passed along, the rumor even though it’s wrong,

If John tells Henry; Henry, Flo; and Flo tells Mildred, and Mildred, Ruth;

It very soon will pass for truth.

You understand this little elf; He doesn't say he knows himself;

he only whispers it to you; Because he knows you’ll go and tell

some other whisperers as well; And so before the setting sun he

gets the devil’s mischief done, And there is less of joy and good, around your little neighborhood.

Look out for ‘Hearsay’ when he sneaks inside the house when slander speaks,

Just ask the proof in every case;

just ask the name, the date, the place; And if he says he only heard,

declare you don’t believe a word And tell him that you’ll not repeat

the silly chatter of the street, However gossips smile and smirk,

refuse to do the devil’s work! -Anonymous

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Self-Pity

There’s always lots of other folks you can be sorry for instead of yourself. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * - Farmer’s nursery rhymes

I Love My Rooster - Anon.

I love my little rooster and my rooster loves me And I feed my rooster on the green-berry tree And my little rooster says cock-a-doodle doo Deedoodle-eedoodle-eedoodle-eedoo

I love my clucking hen, and my hen love me. I cherish my hen neath the cottonwood tree

And my little hen goes cluck, cluck, cluck, cluck a dee dee; and My little Rooster goes cock-a-doodle doo Deedoodle-eedoodle-eedoodle-eedoo

I love my furry doggy, [and my doggy love me

I play with my doggie in the grassy weeds And my doggie says bow-wow, bow-wow,

My clucking hen goes cluck, cluck, cluck a dee dee; And my little Rooster goes cock-a-doodle doo Deedoodle-eedoodle-eedoodle-eedoo].

I love my puddy cat []...

I love my yellow duckie... I love my black horsie... I love my bessie cow…

I love my nellie sheep... * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Little Baby Chick Chick - Pre school song, copywrited by Stratler Music,

21 Pre-school song and dance, vol. 7 Little baby chick chick I see you

And your little peep, peep, I hear too. You are such a fuzzy wuzzy ball

And you don’t even look like a chick at all Little baby chick chick eat and drink

Then you’ll be a bit chick - soon I think Then someday I’ll see you

Sitting on the fence Singing cock-a-doddle-doo!

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Old Shep

Song composed by Red Foley 1910-1968 When I was a lad and old Shep was a pup O’er fields and meadows and we’d stray

Just a boy and his dog, We were both full of fun

We grew up together that way I remember the time at the old swimming hole

When I would have drowned beyond doubt But old Shep was right there,

to the rescue he came, He jumped in and helped pull me out.

Well, the years passed and rolled, and old Shep,

He grew; and soon His years were fast growing dim. Then one day the doctor looked at me and said,

I can’t do no more for him, Jim. With hands that were tremblin’, I picked up my gun,

I aimed it at shep’s faithful head But I just couldn’t do it, I wanted to run, I wished they would shoot me instead.

Well, he crawled to my side and he looked up at me, He laid his old head on my knee.

I’d lost the best friend that a boy ever had, I cried so I scarcely could see.

Well, old Shep he is gone where the good doggies go,

No more with old shep will I roam. But if dogs have a heaven,

Well there’s one thing I know, Old Shep has a wonderful home.

Arranged by: John Bach; Lyrics by Red Foley

Composed by Red Foley Published: 1940 by M.M. Cole Publishing Company.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Teddy Bear Picnic

By Jimmy Kennedy

Verse 1: If you go out in the woods today You're sure of a big surprise.

If you go out in the woods today You'd better go in disguise.

For every bear that ever there was Will gather there for certain, because

Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic. Picnic time for teddy bears,

Chorus: The little teddy bears are

having a lovely time today. Watch them, catch them unawares,

And see them picnic on their holiday. See them gaily dance about.

They love to play and shout. And never have any cares.

At six o'clock their mommies and daddies Will take them home to bed

Because they're tired little teddy bears.

Verse 2: If you go out in the woods today, You'd better not go alone.

It's lovely out in the woods today, But safer to stay at home.

For every bear that ever there was Will gather there for certain, because

Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic. CHORUS

Verse 3: Every teddy bear, that's been good

Is sure of a treat today There's lots of wonderful things to eat

And wonderful games to play Beneath the trees, where nobody sees

They'll hide and seek as long as they please Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.

CHORUS * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * *

That’s Amore - 1952 song composed by Harry Warren and Jack Brooks

Sung by Dean Martin In Napoli where love is king

When boy meets girl here's what they say When the moon hits you eye like a big pizza pie,

That's amore When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine,

That's amore. Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling

And you'll sing "Vita bella" Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay

Like a gay tarantella. When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool, That's amore

When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet, You're in love When you walk down in a dream but you know you're not, Dreaming signore

Scuzza me, but you see, back in old Napoli, That's amore (When the moon hits you eye like a big pizza pie, That's amore

When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine, That's amore Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling, And you'll sing "Vita bella"

Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay, Like a gay tarantella. When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool), That's amore

(When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet, You're in love When you walk down in a dream but you know you're not, Dreaming signore

Scuzza me, but you see, back in old Napoli), That's amore Lucky fella. (Repeat) * * * * * * * * * * *

I’ve Got to Go I’ve got to go get my baby and bring her home to me.

I’ve got to go get my baby it’s plain as I can see. I hate to leave your company – it’s jolly as can be,

But I’ve got to go get my baby and bring her home to me. (A little song of the 1950’s)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Penny Saved

A penny saved is a penny earned. * * * * * * * * * * *

An Easter Chick

-Thirza Wakley ‘What a lovely world’, said the baby chick,

‘I’ve stepped from my egg to see.” ‘What a lovely chick’, said the happy world,

‘The spring has brought to me.’ The children said, ‘God sent her to us,’

And fed her joyfully. * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * K-K-K-Katy

by Geoffrey O’Hara publ. in 1918 Jimmy was a soldier brave and bold, Katy was a maid with hair of gold,

Like an act of fate, Kate was standing at the gate,

Watching all the boys while on parade. Kate smiled, with a twinkle in her eye, Jim said, m-m-m-meet ya by and by.

That night at eight, Jim was at the garden gate,

Stuttering this song to K-K-K-Kate.

K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy, You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore;

When the m-m-m-moon shines, Over the c-c-c-cowshed,

I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door. No one ever looked so nice and neat,

No one could be just as cute and sweet, That's what Jimmy thought,

When the wedding ring he bought,

Soon he'll go to France, the foe to meet. Jimmy thought he'd like to take a chance, See if he could make the Kaiser dance,

Stepping to a tune, All about the silv'ry moon, But when the bullets came,

Jimmy went with his platoon.

Now, This is what they'll hear in far off France.

K-K-K-Katy, beautiful Katy, You're the only g-g-g-girl that I adore;

When the m-m-m-moon shines, Over the c-c-c-cowshed,

I'll be waiting at the k-k-k-kitchen door. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Shoo Fly, Don’t Bother Me By Marla Lewis

Shoo fly don’t bother me, Shoo fly don’t bother me ‘For I belong to somebody

I feel, I feel, I feel like a morning star, I feel, I feel, I feel like a morning star, Oh!

Shoo fly don’t bother me, Shoo fly don’t bother me Shoo fly don’t bother me, For I belong to somebody. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Monkey Married The Baboon’s Sister

- by Edward Arthur Dolph 1929

The Monkey married the baboon’s sister Smacked his lips and then he kissed her;

Kissed so hard he raised a blister; But it soon got well

Chorus: Hi, hi, hi, hi, But it soon got well

Then she put on some court-plaster Stuck so hard it couldn’t stick faster

Surely was a great disaster But it soon got well

The monkey loved the baboon’s sister Smacked his lips and then he kissed her

Kissed her so hard he raised a blister And she set up a yell.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * What are Little Boys Made of?

- unknown author Mother Goose Rhymes

What are little boys made of? Snips and snails, and puppy dog tails,

That's what little boys are made of.

What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice,

And everything nice, That's what little girls are made of.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Old King Cole

(Modern Version) (Words and Music by : from "Sound Off" by Edward Arthur Dolph, copyright 1929) Harry Belafonte

Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he

Called for his pipe And he called for his bowl

And he called for his privates three "Beer, beer, beer", said the privates

Merry men are we - there's none so fair as can compare

With the Fighting Infantry

Old King Cole was a merry old soul And a merry old soul was he

Called for his pipe And he called for his bowl And he called for his corporals three

Hup two said the corporals Beer, beer, beer said the privates

Merry men are we There's none so fair as can compare

With the Fighting Infantry

Old King Cole was a merry old soul, and a merry old soul was he Called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl

And he called for his sergeants three, yeahhhhh, said the sergeants

Hup two said the corporals, Beer, beer, beer said the privates merry men are we –

There's none so fair as can compare with the Fighting Infantry * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Edward Arthur Dolph was a part of the life of soldiers and settlers in the early days in California, he wrote songs that became popular among the soldiers during the Civil War, they were put into a Army Song Book that was still used in the 1930’s. He wrote ‘Sound Off!: Soldiers Songs From Yankee Doodle to Parley Voo (Cosmopolitan 1929).


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Favorite Tongue Twisters

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Betty Botter

Betty Botter bought a bit of butter. The butter Betty Botter bought was a bit bitter

And made her batter bitter. But a bit of better butter makes better batter. So Betty Botter bought a bit of better butter

Making Betty Botter's bitter batter better. * * * * * * * * * *

She Sells Sea Shells She sells sea shells by the sea shore.

The shells she sells sure are sea shore shells, For if she sells sea shore shells as sea shells,

The shells she sells are sea shore shells. * * * * * * * * * *

Purple, paper, people Purple, people, paper People, purple, paper Paper, purple, people

* * * * * * * * * * How Much Would A Woodchuck Chuck

How much wood a woodchuck chuck, If a woodchuck could chuck wood?

As Much wood As a woodchuck would,

If a woodchuck could chuck wood. * * * * * * * * * * *

Peter Piper Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers; A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked;

If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, Where's the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?

* * * * * * * * * * * A Big Black Bug The big black bug

bit the big black bear and the big black bear

bled blood. * * * * * * * * * * *

A Sailor A sailor went to sea

To see what he could see. And all that he could see

Was sea, sea, sea. * * * * * * * *


Sea Food Diet

“I’m on a sea food diet. I see food and I eat it!” We are what we eat.

* * * * * * * * * * * * Once on the Lips

“Once on the lips is forever on the hips!” * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yard By Yard “Yard by yard life is hard; Inch by inch life’s a cinch.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Don’t Let the Stars Get In Your Eyes - Recorded in 1950’s by Dean Martin and others

(Chorus) Don't let the stars get in your eyes

Don't let the moon break your heart Love blooms at night In the daylight it dies

Don't let the stars get in your eyes Oh, keep your heart for me

For someday I'll return And you know you're the only one I'll ever love

(1) Too many nights, too many stars

Too many moons to change your mind If I'm gone too long don't forget where you belong When the stars come out remember you are mine

(Chorus) (2) Too many miles, too many days

Too many nights to be alone Ah please keep your heart while we are apart

Don't you linger in the moonlight when I'm gone (Chorus)

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The Way to Get Rich - Grow a Garden The way to get rich is to have your children help in the garden. Plant seed: the first day plant 2 seed types, the next day, then plant 4 seed types, the third day plant 8 seeds, then plant 12 seeds. Then plant 24 seeds, then plant 32 seeds and keep doing it until you can

do no more than take care of your plants. Water, feed, and weed. What a way to get rich and learn a lot also!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The way to Get Rich

“Take one penny and double it everyday, or plant one seed, and double it everyday, and you’d be amazed at what you could accomplish.

* * * * * * * * * * I Know a Chicken

- Laurie Berkner I know a chicken, And she laid an egg

Oh I know a chicken, And she laid an egg Oh my goodness it’s a shaky egg!

Shake your eggs, Shake, shake shake! (Use egg-shaped shakers and sing the song to

get the blue’s rhythm going.) * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * One Stormy Night

Children’s Storybook, circa 1879, Author Unknown Two little kittens, one stormy night, Began to quarrel, and then to fight;

One had a mouse, the other had none, And that's the way the quarrel begun.

"I'll have that mouse," sad the biggest cat; "You'll have that mouse? We'll see about that!"

"I will have that mouse," said the eldest son; "You shan't have the mouse," said the little one.

I told you before 'twas a stormy night When these two little kittens began to fight;

The old woman seized her sweeping broom,

And swept the two kittens right out of the room. The ground was covered with frost and snow, And the two little kittens had nowhere to go;

So they laid them down on the mat at the door, While the old woman finished sweeping the floor.

Then they crept in, as quiet as mice, All wet with the snow, and cold as ice

For they found it was better that stormy night, To lie down and sleep than to quarrel and fight.

(Published in The Big Book of Nursery Rhymes (circ. 1920) edited by Walter Jerrold

(1865-1929) and illustrated by Charles Robinson.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * The Ten Commandments of Weight Loss

- Author unknown 1. Thou shalt honor thy health and good spirits above all else. 2. Thou shalt not go on crash diets; therein lieth the way of madness. 3. Thou shalt not clean thy neighbor's plate. 4. Thou shalt not eat when thou art miserable, for food is not a medicine unto the soul. 5. Thou shalt eat not when thine eye lusteth, but when thy stomach requireth sustenance. 6. Thou shalt sup chiefly on the fruits of the earth, the grains and vegetables thereof; on the fowl of the air and the fish of the seven seas, whence donuts cometh not. 7. Thou shalt take exercise daily, for why else hast thou sinew and bone, legs and sneakers? 8. Thou shalt be patient but not forgetful. 9. Thou shalt take delight in every good friend and good song, in every good walk and good day, for to enjoy them more is why these commandments are given unto thee. 10. Thou shalt not knit thy brow if thou transgress a commandment, but forgive thyself, for it is written, nine out of ten is not bad.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * The Fool’s Prayer - Edward Rowland Sill

The royal feast was done; the King Sought some new sport to banish care,

And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool, Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!"

The jester doffed his cap and bells,

And stood the mocking court before; They could not see the bitter smile Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head, and bent his knee

Upon the Monarch's silken stool; His pleading voice arose: "O Lord,

Be merciful to me, a fool!

"No pity, Lord, could change the heart From red with wrong to white as wool; The rod must heal the sin: but Lord,

Be merciful to me, a fool!

"'Tis not by guilt the onward sweep Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;

'Tis by our follies that so long We hold the earth from heaven away.

"These clumsy feet, still in the mire, Go crushing blossoms without end;

These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust Among the heart-strings of a friend.

"The ill-timed truth we might have kept--

Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung? The word we had not sense to say--

Who knows how grandly it had rung!

"Our faults no tenderness should ask. The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;

But for our blunders -- oh, in shame Before the eyes of heaven we fall.

"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;

Men crown the knave, And scourge the tool

That did his will; but Thou, O Lord, Be merciful to me, a fool!"

The room was hushed; in silence rose The King, and sought his gardens cool, And walked apart, and murmured low,

"Be merciful to me, a fool!" * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * The Duel

- By Eugene Field (1850-1895) The gingham dog and the calico cat

Side by side on the table sat; 'Twas half-past twelve and (what do you think!)

Nor one nor t'other had slept a wink! The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate

Appeared to know as sure as fate There was going to be a terrible spat.

(I wasn't there; I simply state What was told to me by the Chinese plate!)

The gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!" And the calico cat replied "mee-ow!"

The air was littered, an hour or so, with bits of gingham and calico, While the old Dutch clock in the chimney-place up with its hands

before its face - For it always dreaded a family row! (Now mind: I'm only telling you what the old Dutch clock declares

is true!) The Chinese plate looked very blue, and wailed,

"Oh, dear! What shall we do!" But the gingham dog and the calico cat

wallowed this way and tumbled that, Employing every tooth and claw in the awfullest way you ever saw-

And, oh! How the gingham and calico flew! (Don't fancy I exaggerate-

I got my news from the Chinese plate!) Next morning, where the two had sat They found no trace of dog or cat; And some folks think unto this day That burglars stole that pair away!

But the truth about the cat and pup Is this: They ate each other up!

Now what do you really think of that! (The old Dutch clock it told me so, And that is how I came to know.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * Eugene Field, Sr. (1850-1895) was an American writer, best known for his children’s poetry and humorous essays. He was born in St. Louis, Missouri, where his home is open to public tours as the Eugene Field House, and the St. Louis Toy Museum. After his mother died, he was raised by his cousin in Amherst, Massachusetts. His father, Roswell Martin Field field the lawsuit called teh Dred Scott vs. John Sandford, often referred to as the case that started the Civil War. Field attended Williams College in Williamstown, MA. His father passed away when he was 19, and he dropped out of college. Later he finished his degree at the University of Missiouri. He tried acting and studied law with little success. He began work as journalist in 1875 at the St. Joseph Gazette, in St. Joseph, MO. The same year he married Julia Comstock, and they had eight children. For the rest of his life he arranged for all the money he earned to be sent to his wife, saying that he had no head for money management himself. He became known for his light, humorous articles written in a gossipy style, some of which were reprinted around the country. During this time he wrote the famous poem Lover’s Lane. In 1883 he moved to Chicago and wrote the humorous column Sharps and Flats for the Chicago Daily News. His column was credited as being the first to

have the author’s name or ‘byline’ appearing with the column. He began publishing poetry in 1879, a poem called ‘Christmas Treasure’ appeared in A Little Book of Western Verse. Over a dozen volumes of poetry followed and he became well known for his light-hearted poems for children.


* * * * * * * * * * * Maud Muller

- John Greenlea Whittlier (1802-1892)

Maud Mueller, on a summer's day, Raked the meadows sweet with hay. Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Of simple beauty and rustic health. Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee The mock-bird echoed from his tree. But, when she glanced to the far-off town, White from its hill-slope looking down, the sweet song died, and a vague unrest And a nameless longing filled her breast-- A wish, that she hardly dared to own, For something better than she had known. The Judge rode slowly down the lane, Smoothing his horse's chestnut mane. He drew his bridle in the shade Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid, And ask a draught from the spring that flowed Through the meadow across the road. She

stooped where the cool spring bubbled up, And filled for him her small tin cup, And blushed as she gave it, looking down On her feet so bare, and her tattered gown. "Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaffed." He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees, Of the singing birds and the humming bees; Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether The cloud in the west would bring foul weather. And Maud forgot her briar-torn gown, And her graceful ankles bare and brown; And listened, while a pleasant surprise Looked from her long-lashed hazel eyes. At last, like one who for delay Seeks a vain excuse, he rode away, Maud Muller looked and sighed: "Ah, me! That I the Judge's bride might be! "He would dress me up in silks so fine, And praise and toast me at his wine. "My father should wear a broadcloth coat; My brother should sail a painted boat.” I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, And the baby should have a new toy each day. “And I'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor, And all should bless me who left our door." The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, And saw Maud Muller standing still.

"A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. "And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair. "Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay: "No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, "But low of cattle, and song of birds, And health, and quiet, and loving words." But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold, And his mother, vain of her rank and gold. So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, And Maud was left in the field alone. But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, when he hummed in court an old love-tune; And the young girl mused beside the well, Till the

rain on the unraked clover fell. He wedded a wife of richest dower, Who lived for fashion, as he for power. Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, He watched a picture come and go: And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes looked out in their innocent surprise. * * * * * * * * * * * *


Maud Muller part 2 Oft when the wine in his glass was red, He longed for the wayside well instead; And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms, To dream of meadows and clover-blooms. and the proud man sighed, with a secret pain, "Ah, that I were free again! "Free as when I rode that day, Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay." She wedded a man unlearned and poor, And many children played round her door. But care and sorrow, and child-birth pain, Left their traces on heart and brain. And oft, when the summer sun shone hot On the new-mown hay in the meadow lot, and she heard the little spring brook fall Over the roadside, through the wall,

In the shade of the apple-tree again She saw a rider draw his rein, And, gazing down with timid grace, She felt his pleased eyes read her face. Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls Stretched away into stately halls; The weary wheel to a spinnet turned, The tallow candle an astral burned; And for him who sat by the chimney lug, Dozing and grumbling o'er pipe and mug, A manly form at her side she saw, And joy was duty and love was law. Then she took up her burden of life again, Saying only, "It might have been." Alas for maiden, alas for Judge, For rich repiner and household drudge!

God pity them both! and pity us all, Who vainly the dreams of youth recall; For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: "It might have been!" Ah, well! for us all some sweet hope lies Deeply buried from human eyes; And, in the hereafter, angels may Roll the stone from its grave away!

* * * * * * * * * * * * John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) was an influential American Quaker poet and ardent advocate of the abolition of slavery in the U.S. He is usually listed as being one of the Fireside Poets. He was strongly influenced by the Scottish poet, Robert Burns. Born in Haverhill strongly influenced by the Scottish poet, Robert Burns. Born in Haverhill Massachusetts on Dec 17, 1807, he grew up on a farm with his parents, a brother, two sisters, a maternal and paternal uncle, and a constant flow of visitors and hired hands. There was only enough money to get by, but John was not physically cut out for hard farm labor, and suffered ill to get by, but John was not physically cut out for hard farm labor, and suffered ill health and physical fragility from his birth. Although he had little formal education, he was an avid reader who studied his father’s books. As a boy it was discovered he was color-blind when who studied his father’s books. As a boy it was discovered he was color-blind when he was unable to see ripe and unripe strawberries. His first poem ‘the Exile’s Departure’ was published in the Newburyport Free Press without his permission on 1826. To raise money attend school he learned how to make shoes, and after that part of the pay he earned went toward his education, and other part went to buy food for the family. After his second term he began working as a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse in Merrimac, Mass. He attended began working as a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse in Merrimac, Mass. He attended

Haverhill Academy from 1827-8 and completed high school in only two terms. He nearly got married, several times, but never succeeded. After graduation he took a job as an editor, and after a change in management, he became editor of the weekly publication American Manufacturer in Boston. He became an out-spoken critic of President Andrew Jackson, and by 1830 was the editor of the most prominent Whig journal in New England. During the 1830’s he became interested in politics but after losing election to Congress in 1832, he suffered a nervous breakdown and returned home at the age of 25. He then took up the anti-slavery cause, and published several articles, poems and books along those lines. He has several poems that are famous, Barbara Frietchie, Snow-Bound, Dear Lord & Father of Mankind, The Brewing of Soma and Song of the Negro Boatmen. His writings reflect his Quaker background. Whittier’s family farm, known as the John Greenleaf Whittier Homestead is now a historic site open to the public (above). His later residence in Amesbury, where is lived for 56 years is also open to the public. Several schools, landmarks, and towns are named after him. He retired to Danvers in 1876 to live with his cousins and died Sept 1892 at Hampton Hills, New Hampshire, was buried at Amesbury. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Spider and The Fly

- Mary Howitt 1821 Will you walk into my parlor?" said the Spider to the Fly,

'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy; The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,

And I've a many curious things to show when you are there." Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain,

For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again." "I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;

Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly. "There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,

And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!" Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said, They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"

Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, " Dear friend what can I do, To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you? I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;

I'm sure you're very welcome -- will you please to take a slice?" "Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind Sir, that cannot be,

I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!"

"Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise, How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!

I've a little looking-glass upon my parlor shelf, If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."

"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you 're pleased to say, And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."

The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den, For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:

So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly, And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.

Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing, "Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;

Your robes are green and purple -- there's a crest upon your head; Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!"

Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly, Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;

With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew, Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue -

Thinking only of her crested head -- poor foolish thing! At last, Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.

He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den, Within his little parlor -- but she ne'er came out again! And now dear little children, who may this story read,

To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed: Unto an evil counselor, close heart and ear and eye,

And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.

Poem from Sketches of Natural History (1834), Effingham Wilson: London. * * * * * * * * * * *

Mary Howitt (1799-1888) was an English poet and author born Mary Botham at Coleford in Gloucestershire, England, she was educated at home, read widely, and commence writing verses at a very early age. She married William Howitt in 1821

and began a successful career of authorship with her husband; together they wrote over 180 books. In 1837 she commenced writing her well-known tales for children, a long series of books. She translated many Danish childrens books

including Hans Christian Andersen’s tales. Her name is attached to more then 110 works. She received the Literary Academy of Stockholm award in 1879. She and her husband William were very close, he died in 1879, and she in 1888.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * Froggie Went A-Courtin’

An old English language folk Song 1. Frog went a-courtin', and he did ride, Uh-huh, Frog went a-courtin', and he did ride, Uh-huh,

Frog went a-courtin', and he did ride. With a sword and a pistol by his side, Uh-huh.

2. Well he rode up to Miss Mousey's door, Uh-huh, Well he rode up to Miss Mousey's door, Uh-huh,

Well he rode up to Miss Mousey's door. Gave three loud raps and a very big roar, Uh-huh.

3. Said, "Miss Mouse, are you within?" Uh-huh, Said he, "Miss Mouse, are you within?" Uh-huh,

Said, "Miss Mouse, are you within?" "Yes, kind sir, I sit and spin," Uh-huh.

4. He took Miss Mousey on his knee, Uh-huh, Took Miss Mousey on his knee, Uh-huh,

Took Miss Mousey on his knee. Said, "Miss Mousey, will you marry me?" Uh-huh.

5. "Without my uncle Rat's consent, Uh-huh "Without my uncle Rat's consent, Uh-huh

"Without my uncle Rat's consent. I wouldn't marry the president, Uh-huh

6. Uncle Rat laughed and he shook his fat sides, Uh-huh, Uncle Rat laughed and he shook his fat

sides, Uh-huh, Uncle Rat laughed and he shook his fat sides,. To think his niece would be a bride, Uh-huh. 7. Uncle Rat went runnin' downtown, Uh-huh,

Uncle Rat went runnin' downtown, Uh-huh, Uncle Rat went runnin' downtown.

To buy his niece a wedding gown, Uh-huh 8. Where shall the wedding supper be? Uh-huh, Where shall the wedding supper be? Uh-huh,

Where shall the wedding supper be? Way down yonder in a hollow tree, Uh-huh

9. What should the wedding supper be? Uh-huh, What should the wedding supper be? Uh-huh,

What should the wedding supper be? Fried mosquito in a black-eye pea, Uh-huh.

10. Well, first to come in was a flyin' moth, Uh-huh,

First to come in was a flyin' moth, Uh-huh, First to come in was a flyin' moth.

She laid out the table cloth, Uh-huh. 11. Next to come in was a juney bug, Uh-huh,

Next to come in was a juney bug, Uh-huh, Next to come in was a juney bug.

She brought the water jug, Uh-huh. 12. Next to come in was a bumbley bee, Uh-huh

Next to come in was a bumbley bee, Uh-huh Next to come in was a bumbley bee. Sat mosquito on his knee, Uh-huh.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


Froggie Went A-Courtin’ part 2

13. Next to come in was a broken black flea, Uh-huh,

Next to come in was a broken black flea, Uh-huh,

Next to come in was a broken black flea. Danced a jig with the bumbley bee, Uh-huh. 14. Next to come in was Mrs. Cow, Uh-huh,

Next to come in was Mrs. Cow, Uh-huh, Next to come in was Mrs. Cow.

She tried to dance but she didn't know how, Uh-huh.

15. Next to come in was a little black tick, Uh-huh,

Next to come in was a little black tick, Uh-huh, Next to come in was a little black tick.

She ate so much she made us sick, Uh-huh.

16. Next to come in was a big black snake, Uh-huh, Next to come in was a big black snake, Uh-huh,

Next to come in was a big black snake. Ate up all of the wedding cake, Uh-huh.

17. Next to come was the old gray cat, Uh-huh, Next to come was the old gray cat, Uh-huh,

Next to come was the old gray cat. Swallowed the mouse and ate up the rat, Uh-huh.

18. Mr. Frog went a-hoppin' up over the brook, Uh-huh,

Mr. Frog went a-hoppin' up over the brook, Uh-huh, Mr. Frog went a-hoppin' up over the brook.

A lily-white duck come and swallowed him up, Uh-huh. 19. A little piece of cornbread layin' on a shelf, Uh-huh,

A little piece of cornbread layin' on a shelf, Uh-huh, A little piece of cornbread layin' on a shelf.

If you want anymore, you can sing it yourself, Uh-huh. Copyright ©1992 Special Rider Music

* * * * * * * * * * The song first appeared in Wedderburn’s Complanynt of Scotland (1548) under the name “The frog came to the

myl dur”, though this in Scots rather than English. The song has been heard by many people in 1955. It was recorded in 1956 by Dorothy Olsen, the Singing Schoolteacher. It was featured on an episode of The Muppet

Show, with Kermit the Frog going a-Courtin’ Miss Mousie.

* * * * * * * * * * * Greener Grass?

“A wise philosopher once said: “If the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, perhaps you

should water yours.” “A wise philosopher once said: “If the grass on the other side of the fence is always

greener, perhaps their waterlines have sprung a leak.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Moon Came Late - Mary Mapes Dodge

The moon came late to a lonesome bog, And there sat Goggleky Gluck, the frog. ‘My stars!’ she cried, and veiled her face,

‘What very grand people they have in this place!’

* * * * * * * * * * * * (Mary Mapes Dodge was born into an academic family in New York, tutored at home, married a lawyer at age 20, and had two children. After her husband’s death seven years later, Dodge began her writing career to support her sons. She wrote the famous children’s novel, Hans Brinker (or the Silver Skates) (1865), which won an award from the

French Academy. She published the poetry collection Poems & Verses (1904) as well as the children’s verse collection Rhymes and Jingles (1874). She died at her summer home in Onteora Park, NY and is buried in the Evergreen Cemetery in Hillside, N.J.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Birthday Party - Maureen Cannon

Ah, wait a bit. Do stay a heartbeat’s minute, while I pretend to tie your dress. You in it, are almost more then I can bear with grace, and casual

good-bye. Your party face, enchants me! And your look, half-grave, unsure of what is ahead,

Is shining still, a pure and secret sort of glow is there, so pleased you are with parties, presents,

even teased, you laugh delightedly! You smell so good.

Your petticoat sticks out the way it should. You’re you, and six, and wonderful....

I’ve said it all, but silently I touch your head, and straighten out a ribbon,

mindful of my grin. “Have fun!” What joy you are, small love.

* * * * * * * * * * A Perfect Day

- Abbie Farwell Brown Somebody’s birthday’s everydsy,

Over this land so wide and far So let us be generous, kind and gay

For somebody’s sake, wherever we are. * * * * * * * * * * * Birthday’s Everyday

- Rachel Field Did you ever think how queer that, everyday all through the year, Someone has a frosted cake, and candles for a birthday’s sake?

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Birthday Cakes - Author unknown

Holiday cakes are anybody’s cake Anybody’s offered some and anybody takes.

But a birthday cake is your very own cake It’s blue and silver, or pink and white;

And wears little candle all alight. (Each one for every single year

That you have been living here.) It sparkles bright with honey ice, Oh a birthday cake is very nice! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Oh to have a birthday! - Author unknown

Oh to have a birthday, Candles burning bright,

Eyes so blue and sparkling, Happy heart so light.

* * * * * * * * * * * * A Birthday - Jean Jngelow

A birthday, and now a day that rose, with much of hope with meaning rife. A thoughtful day from dawn to close;

The middle day of human life. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Her Birthdays -Elizabeth Goudge

“Her birthdays were always important to her: for being a born lover of life;

she would always keep the day of her entrance in it is as a very great festival indeed.”

* * * * * * * * * * * My Birthday

- George E. Woodberry “My birthday was a good one, being at home again;

and the day was properly diversified with flowers; and a call or two, a letter or two, etc.

Just what a birthday ought to be.” * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sunny Birthdays Most of us can remember a time when birthdays,

especially if it was one’s own brightened the world as if a second sun had risen.

- Robert Lynch * * * * * * * * * * * *

Four bright candles, and one to grow on, fine bright candles all to blow on. * * * * * * * * * * * *

I make my mouth round like an O. I wait and thenk, then wish – and blow! - Miriam Clark Potter


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Another Year

By Joanna Fuchs (1932- ) I’m wishing you another year

Of laughter, joy and fun, Surprises, love and happiness,

And when your birthday’s done, I hope you feel deep in your heart,

As your birthdays come and go, How very much you mean to me,

More than you can know. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Birthday Appreciation By Joanna Fuchs (1932- )

Each year your birthday reminds me That I really want to say

I’m very glad I know you; I think of you each day.

I hope you enjoy your birthday, All the pleasures it has in store, And because I appreciate you, I hope you have many more!

Joanna Fuchs is still living, has a website: poemsource.com

* * * * * * * * * * It is Lovely

- Ellen Glasgow “It is lovely, when I forget all birthdays,

Including my own to find that somebody remembers me.” * * * * * * * * * * *

A Birthday Wish - Dorothy Nell McDonald

I do not wish you joy without sorrow; nor endless day without the healing dark; nor brilliant sun without the restful shadow; nor tides that

turn against your bark. I wish you love, and strength, and faith and wisdom, Goods, gold enough to help some needy one. I wish you

songs, but also blessed silence, and God’s sweet peace when every day is done.

* * * * * * * * * * * Count Thankfully

Do you count your birthdays thankfully? - Horace * * * * * * * * * * * * Birthday Cake

- Aileen Fisher If little mice have birthdays

(and I suppose they do); And have a family party, (And guests invited too).

And have a cake with candles (It would be rather small).

I bet a birthday cheese cake Would please them most of all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Written On the Road

- Mary Mapes Dodge Out in the sunshine fair and free, flecked

by the blossoming, re-born tree, Bathed in the pale, pure light of Spring,

while men look up, and the glad birds sing, - There, dear friend, let thy reck’ning be,

So let thy birthdays come to thee! Firm as the tall, brave trunks around; full of life as the flower-full ground’

Free as the boughs that sweep the blue; bright as the violet’s sudden hue; - So let thy life-long reck’ning be,

so let thy birthdays come to thee! It was cool and gray in the twilight morn –

A prophecy sweetest – when thou wast born;

And if daylight gathered a cloud or two that

floated beside thee when life was new, Thy noon will be sunny and clear, I know, and holy and peaceful thine evening glow: For good and true shall thy reck’ning be ‘till all thy birthdays are come to thee.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Birthday Child

- Rose Fyleman Everything’s been different all the day long,

Lovely things have happened, nothing has gone wrong. Nobody has scolded me, everyone has smiled,

Isn’t it delicious to be a birthday child? * * * * * * * * * * * *

Birthday - Elaine V. Emans

At first I said: I will not have, I think, a cake this year. I’m much too old for it.”

And then, perhaps a cake but, oh! No pink candles for folks to count when they are lit.”

Then I said later, “Well, perhaps, a few small candles would make the affair mare bright:

But the true number – it would never do1” And yet today when I stood up to light a candle-

flame for each year I have come, I laughed, and how my spirit sang in me!

I was most proud (although my hands shook some). As I held up the cake for all to see –

Years I have worked in, played in and been glad! * * * * * * * * * * * * Many Happy Years

“God grant you many and happy years...” - Oliver Wendell Holmes

* * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * A Birthday

- Christina Georgina Rossetti My heart is like a singing bird

Whose nest is in a water'd shoot; My heart is like an apple-tree

Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit; My heart is like a rainbow shell That paddles in a halcyon sea;

My heart is gladder than all these, Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a daïs of silk and down; Hang it with vair and purple dyes;

Carve it in doves and pomegranates, And peacocks with a hundred eyes;

Work it in gold and silver grapes, In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;

Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * For Your Birthday

- Elain V. Emans So much that I would give you hovers out Of reach of my poor giving – song within Your heart forever, faith to end all doubt,

And laughter, warm and gold, when you begin To grow to serious, and always near,

The good companionship of trees and birds; And always for your beauty-loving ear,

Music when you have need of it, and words That pleasure you and rest you, softly spoken; Unnumbered good days, peace of starry night,

And love from down to down that’s an unbroken Deep certainty in you…..I have no right

To dream of it – but never doubt I should Give you such birthday presents, if I could.

* * * * * * * * * * * * A Friend

- Martial Believing, hear what you deserve to hear; Your Birthday is as my own to me is dear.

Blest and distinguished days! Which we should prize;

The first, the kindest bounty of the skies, But yours gives most;

for mine did only lend me to the world; Yours gave to me a friend.

* * * * * * * * * * * Duty

“There is no duty we underrate so much as the duty of being happy.” – Robert Louis Stevenson

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * Serene

- William Wordsworth Serene will be our days and bright

And happy will our Nature be. When love is an unerring light,

And joy it’s own security. * * * * * * * * * *

The Salutation of the Dawn - Kalidasa quotes from the Sanskrit

Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn1 Look to this Day! For it is Life, the very

Life of Life. In its brief course lie all the Verities and Realities of your Existence.

The Bliss of Growth, The Glory of Action, The Splendor of Beauty;

For Yesterday is but a Dream, And To-morrow is only a Vision;

But To-day well lived makes Every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness, And every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope.

Look well therefore to this Day! Such is the Salutation of the Dawn!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Crystal Creatures

- Marion Shoeberlein (Featured in the Feb 1978, Friend Magazine )

I watch the crystal creatures made of snow. They look like people in their shoes of glass; some are gay dancers, some are walking slow; some lie there lazily inside the grass. The crystal creatures make their homes in trees; some on the chimneys,

fences, and windowsills. They have their own quaint personalities; they seem to walk through forests and on hills. The crystal creatures are like fragile birds that sing and with the winter

fly away — Beauty formed by small miracles, white words, that paint the world a frozen, lacy way.

* * * * * * * * * * * The Snow

- T. Ann Elliot The snow, in bitter cold, fell all the night; And we awoke to see the garden white.

And still the silvery flakes go whirling by, White feathers fluttering from a gray sky. Beyond the gate, soft feet in silence go,

Beyond the frosted pane, white shines the snow. * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Kay Sarah (Che Sara Sara)

Written by Jay Livingston, and Ray Evans for Alfred Hitchcock’s 1956 remake of this 1934 film ‘The Man Who Knew Too Much” starring Doris Day and James Stewart.

When I was just a little girl,

I asked my mother, "What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?"

Here's what she said to me: (Chorus) "Que sera, sera, Whatever will be, will be;

The future's not ours to see. Que sera, sera,

What will be, will be." When I was just a child in school,

I asked my teacher, "What will I try? Should I paint pictures" Should I sing songs?"

This was her wise reply: (Chorus)

When I grew up and fell in love. I asked my sweetheart, "What lies ahead?

Will we have rainbows Day after day?" Here's what my sweetheart said:

(Chorus) Now I have Children of my own.

They ask their mother, "What will I be?" Will I be handsome? Will I be rich?"

I tell them tenderly: (Chorus)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * The Tale of a Dog and a Bee

- Unanimous Great big dog, head upon his toe; Tiny little bee sits on his noses. Great big dog thinks it is a fly,

Never says a word, winks very sly. Tiny little bee, Tickles dogs nose – Thinks like as not but a pretty rose.

Dog smiles a smile, winks his other eye, Chuckles to himself how he’ll catch a fly.

Then he makes a snap, very quick and spray, Does his level best, but doesn’t catch the fly.

Tiny little bee stays well; Great big dog, mostly red, not well.

Remember: dear friends and brothers all, Don’t be too fast and free, And when you catch a fly,

Be sure it’s not a bee. * * * * * * * * * * * *

Published in Side by Side, Antonio, Et Al., 2002

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Mr. Nobody

- Unknown I know a funny little man, as quiet as a mouse,

Who does the mischief that is done in everybody’s house! There’s no one ever sees his face, and yet we all agree

That every plate we break was cracked By Mr. Nobody.

‘Tis he who always tears our books, who leaves the door ajar, He pulls the buttons from our shirts, and scatters pins afar; That

squeaking door will always squeak for, prithee Don’t you see, we leave the oiling to be done

By Mr. Nobody.

He puts damp wood upon the fire, that kettles cannot boil; His are the feet that bring in mud, and all the carpets soil. The papers always are mislaid, who had them last but he?

There’s no one tosses them about But Mr. Nobody.

The finger-marks upon the door by none of us are made; We never leave the blinds unclosed, to let the curtains fade. The ink we never spill, the boots that lying round you see

Are not our boot; they all belong To Mr. Nobody.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * Just Like A Man

- John Keats He sat at the dinner table

With a discontented frown. The potatoes and steak were underdone

And the bread was baked too brown. The pie was too sour and the pudding too sweet,

And the roast was much too fat; The soup so greasy, too, and salt,

'Twas hardly fit for the cat.

"I wish you could eat the bread and pie I've seen my mother make.

They're simply great, and 'twould do you good

Just to sample a loaf of her cake." Said the smiling wife, "I'll improve with

age - Just now I'm but a beginner; But your mother has come to visit us,

And today she cooked the dinner." * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * When Polly Buys a Hat

- E. Hill When Father goes to town with me to buy my Sunday hat,

We can’t afford to waste much time in doing things like that; We walk into the nearest shop, and Father tells them then,

“Just bring a hat you think will fit a little girl of ten!” It may be plain, it may be fine with lace and flowers, too; If it just ‘feels right’ on my head we think that it will do!

It may be red or brown or blue, with ribbons light or dark; We put it on – and take the car that goes to Central Park.

When Mother buys my hat for me, we choose the shape with care;

We ask if it is the best they have, and if they’re sure ‘t will wear;

And when the trimming’s rather fine, why, Mother shakes her head

And says, ‘Please take the feathers off – we’d like a bow, instead!’

But oh, when Sister buys my hats you really do not know

The hurry and the worry that we have to undergo! How many times I’ve heard her say, - and shivered where I sat, -

“I think I’ll go to town to-day, and buy that child a hat!”

They bring great hats with curving brims, but I’m too tall for those; And hats that have no brims at all, which do not suit my nose;

I walk about, and turn around, and struggle not to frown, And wish I had long curly hair like Angelina Brown.

Till when at last the daylight goes, and I’m so tired then

I hope I’ll never, never need another hat again, And when I’ve quite made up my mind that shopping is the worst

Of all my tasks – then Sister buys the hat that we saw first!

And so we take it home with us as quickly as we may, And Sister lifts it from the box and wonders what they’ll say;

And I, I peep into the glass, and (promise not to tell!) I smile, because I really think it suits me very well;

Then slip into the library as quiet as can be,

And this is what my brother says when first he looks at me; “Upon-my-word! I never saw a queerer sight than that!

Don’t tell me this outrageous thing is Polly’s Sunday hat!

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Tired Tim

- Walter de la Mare Poor tired Tim! It’s sad for him.

He lags the long bright morning through, Ever so tired of nothing to do;

He moans and mopes the livelong day, Nothing to think about, nothing to see;

Up to bed with his candle to creep, Too tired to yawn, too tired to sleep:

Poor tired Tim! It’s sad for him. * * * * * * * * * * *

What Became of Them? - unknown

He was a rat, and she as a rat, And down in one hole they did dwell;

And both were as black as a witch’s cat, And they loved one another well. He had a tail, and she had a tail, Both long and curling and fine;

And each aid: “Yours is the finest tail in the world excepting mine.”

He smelt the cheese, and she smelt the cheese,

And they both said it was good; And both remarked it would greatly add

To the charms of their daily food. So he ventured out, and she ventured out,

And I saw them go with pain; But what befell them I never can tell,

For they never came back again. * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Tomato Farmer An elderly gentleman wrote a letter to his son, who was in jail. He wrote “Dear Son, It’s too bad that you’re in jail

because I really could use your help to dig up my tomato garden, so I could plant some tomatoes this year”.

The son wrote back: “Father, please don’t dig up your tomato garden – because that is where I put all those dead bodies.” So the father notified the police, who came and dug the garden up

inch by inch, but they never found anything, so the Father wrote back: “My Dear Son; They came out and dug up every

inch of my tomato garden, but didn’t find even one body.” The son had written him another letter, which arrived the same

day they had finished digging up the garden: “Sorry, Dad, that’s the best I could do.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Frog and the Bird - Vera Hessey

By a quiet little stream on an old mossy log; Looking very forlorn, sat a little green frog;

He'd a sleek speckled back, and two bright yellow eyes, And when dining, selected the choicest of flies. The sun was so hot, he scarce opened his eyes,

Far too lazy to stir, let alone watch for flies, He was nodding, and nodding, and almost asleep,

When a voice in the branches chirped, 'Froggie, cheep, cheep!'

'You'd better take care,' piped the bird to the frog, 'In the water you'll be if you fall off that log.

Can't you see that the streamlet is up to the brim?' Croaked the froggie, 'What odds!

You forget I can swim!' Then the froggie looked up at the

bird perched so high On a bough that to him seemed to reach to the sky; So he croaked to the bird: 'If you fall you will die!'

Chirped the birdie, 'What odds! You forget I can fly!' * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Self Pity? It appears to be more comely for a man to be singing with the

larks in the sky then croaking with the frogs in the swamps. * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Give Said the Little Stream (LDS Children’s Hymn)

Give, said the little stream, Give o give, give o give. Give, said the little stream, as it hurried on it’s way.

I’m small I know but wherever I go the fields grow greener still.

Give, then for Jesus, give. Give o give, give o away. There is something all can give.

* * * * * * * * * * * Water

Water has no taste at all, water has no smell; Water’s in the waterfall, in pump, and tap, and well.

Water’s everywhere about; waters in the rain In the bath, the pond, and out at sea it’s there again.

Water comes into my eyes, and down my cheek in tears, When mother cried, “Go back and try to wash behind those

ears!” - John R. Crossland * * * * * * * * * * *

Little Robin Redbreast Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree, singing here are some cherries, and they’re good for me – stop! Said little Tommy, don’t you think I know, those are papa’s cherries, so you’d better go. Did your papa make them sang the robin red. No said little Tommy hanging down

his head. * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * Hugs

. Helen Steiner Rice It’s wondrous what a hug can do. A hug can cheer you when

you’re blue. A hug can say “I love you so.” Or Gee, I hate to see you go.”

A hug is “welcome back again”, and “great to see you, where’ve you been?” A hug can smooth a child’s pain and bring a rainbow after rain. The hug: there’s just no doubt about it. We scarcely could survive without it. A hug delights and warms and charms. It must

be why God gave us arms. Hugs are great for fathers and mothers,

sweet for sisters, swell for brothers and chances are your favorite aunts love them more than potted plants. Kittens crave them puppies love them. Heads of States are not above them. A hug can break the language barrier and

make your travels so much merrier. No need to fret about your store of them. The more you give the more there’s

more so stretch those arms without delay and give someone a hug today!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * Life Is A Mixture of Sunshine & Rain

- Loreta Inman Life is a mixture of sunshine and rain,

Laughter and pleasure, teardrops and rain. All days can't be bright but it's certainly true,

There was never a cloud the sun didn't shine through. And you'll find when you smile your day will be brighter

And all your burdens will seem so much lighter. For each time you smile you will find it's true

Somebody, somewhere, will smile back at you. And nothing on earth can make life more worthwhile Than the sunshine and warmth of a beautiful smile! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Elephant - unknown

The elephant is like a wall, He is broad and very tall,

Upon his back we have a ride And swing and sway from side to side.

* * * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * * The Blind Men And the Elephant

- John Godfrey Saxe (1816-1887) It was six men of Indostan To learning much inclined

Who went to see the Elephant (Though all of them were blind),

That each by observation Might satisfy his mind

The First approached the Elephant, And happening to fall

Against his broad and sturdy side, At once began to bawl:

"God bless me! but the Elephant Is very like a wall!" The Second, feeling of the tusk, Cried, "Ho! what have we here

So very round and smooth and sharp? To me 'tis mighty clear

This wonder of an Elephant Is very like a spear!" The Third approached the animal,

And happening to take The squirming trunk within his hands,

Thus boldly up and spake: "I see," quoth he, "the Elephant Is very like a snake."

The Fourth reached out an eager hand,

And felt about the knee. "What most this wondrous beast is like

Is mighty plain," quoth he; "Tis Clear enough the Elephant Is very like a tree."

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear, Said: "E'en the blindest man

Can tell what this resembles most; Deny the fact who can,

This marvel of an Elephant Is very like a fan!"

The Sixth no sooner had begun about the beast to grope,

Then seizing on the swinging tail that fell within his scope,

"I see," quoth he, "the Elephant is very like a rope."

And so these men of Indostan disputed loud and long. Each in his own opinion - exceeding stiff and strong,

Though each was partly in the right, and all were in the wrong.

So, oft in theological wars the disputants, I ween, Rail on in utter ignorance of what each other mean, And prate about an elephant not one of them has seen!

* * * * * * * * * * *


* * * * * * * * * * * * Sons of the King

(Joan Agnew, from English in Context, Wachyu Sundayana) A little prince of long ago, the day that he was sick

Put away his birthday toys, his soldiers, trains, and bricks. And stealing down the golden stair, his slipper in his hand,

He from the shady courtyard stepped into a sunlit land. And sitting there beside the wall he buttoned up his shoes

And wondered – looking up and down which highway he should he choose.

When by there rode a gipsy boy his pony dark as he, Who smiled upon the little prince

so golden-fair to see.

“Where are you riding, gipsy by, this lovely summer day?” “Over this hills and through the woods to the land of Far-Away.”

“Who is your father, gipsy boy? For mine, you know, is king, And I shall to like him one day, and wear his crown and ring.”

“My father,” said the gipsy boy, “He also is a king. Although he sits upon no throne and wears no crown or ring.”

“He’s king of all the gipsy-folk twixt here and Far-Away, And I, who am his eldest son, shall be a king some day.”

May I go with you, gipsy boy, to ride your little horse,

To see your tends and caravans between the golden gorse?

“There I could run without my shoes and climb your forest trees,

I seem to smell your smoky fires of crackling twigs and leaves.”

Within the Palace voices call,

the gates are opened wide, The kindly watchmen see the Prince

and beckon him inside. The gipsy smiles and shakes his head,

he jerks the pony’s rein; “When you and I are king,”, he says,

“Then we shall meet again.” * * * * * * * * * * *

Documents

Esther's Non Spiritual Poems Part B