Thread: Need a Poem?
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Old 02-12-2009, 09:06 AM   #224
Rush'd Lady
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Default miscellaneous . . .

Little.
By Dorothy Aldis.

I am the sister of him
And he is my brother.
He is too little for us
To talk to each other.

So every morning I show him
My doll and my book;
But every morning he still is
Too little to look.
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Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again, just for to-night!
-- Elizabeth Chase Akers, Rock Me to Sleep, Mother
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All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
-- Mrs. Cecil Frances Alexander, hymn; All Things Bright
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Make new friends,
But keep the old.
One is silver,
And the other's gold.
-- Anonymous.
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"a poem for a gift of garden gloves"

If you can't raise flowers
Or think you're too dumb
Because you don't possess
The proverbial green thumb.
Now you no longer
Have that for a reason,
With these gardening gloves
You can raise flowers any season.
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Farmer Boy
By Grayce Krogh Boller.

I am a happy farmer boy,
With sturdy rake and hoe,
And song-filled heart of gladness
As off to plant I go.

I give each row my special care;
Each plant with love I tend.
But I must pray that God above
Sunshine and rain will send.
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A Fairy in Armor
By Joseph Rodman Drake.

He put his acorn helmet on;
It was plumed on the silk of the thistle down;
The corslet plate that guarded his breast
Was once the wild bee's golden vest;
His cloak, of a thousand mingled dyes,
Was formed of the wings of butterflies;
His shield was the shell of a lady-bug green,
Studs of gold on a ground of green;
And the quivering lance which he brandished bright,
Was the sting of a wasp he had slain in fight.
Swift he bestrode his fire-fly steed;
He bared his blade of the bent-grass blue;
He drove his spurs of the cockle-seed,
And away like a glance of thought he flew,
The fiery trail of the rocket-star.
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Planning a Trip
By Nona Keen Duffy.

We're planning our vacation
And places we shall go;
We want to visit Grandma
And other friends we know.

We're packing our belongings,
But we haven't finished yet;
There are so many items
We hope we won't forget!

We mean to pack a lunch box
And take our swimming suits;
We mean to take a kodak
And Daddy's high-top boots.

We have the tackle ready
And all the fishing hooks;
We're going to take our checkers
And several story-books.

We have our colored glasses,
Our scarfs and hats and caps,
A thermos and a flashlight
And several handy maps.

We'll take along our bedding
And sleep outdoors at night;
We'll start tomorrow morning
As soon as it is light!
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Every house where love abides
And friendship is a guest,
Is surely home, and home, sweet home
For there the heart can rest.
-- Henry Van Dyke.
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Genius is one percent inspiration and ninety-nine percent perspiration. (Thomas Edison).
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I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
-- Robert Frost, TheRoad Not Taken
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Stopping By a Woods On a Snowy Evening
By Robert Frost.

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a little shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
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