Thread: Need a Poem?
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Unread 04-05-2007, 10:36 PM   #81
Rush'd Lady
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Default and some more boy poems . . .

Our Heroes
By Phoebe Cary

Here’s a hand to the boy who has courage
To do what he knows to be right;
When he falls in the way of temptation,
He has a hard battle to fight.
Who strives against self and his comrades
Will find a most powerful foe.
All honor to him if he conquers.
A cheer for the boy who says, “NO!”

There’s many a battle fought daily
The world knows nothing about;
There’s many a brave little soldier
Whose strength puts a legion to rout.
And he who fights sin singlehanded
Is more of a hero, I say,
Than he who leads soldiers to battle
And conquers by arms in the fray.

Be steadfast, my boy, when you’re tempted,
To do what you know to be right.
Stand firm by the colors of manhood,
And you will o’ercome in the fight.
“The right,” be your battle cry ever
In waging the warfare of life,
And God, who knows who are the heroes,
Will give you the strength for the strife.

God made a world out of His dreams of magic mountains, oceans and streams, prairies and plains and wooded land,
then paused and thought, “I need someone to stand on top of the mountains, to conquer the seas, explore the plains
and climb the trees. Someone to start out small and grow sturdy and strong like a tree.” and so . . . He created boys,
full of spirit and fun, to explore and conquer, to romp and run, with dirty faces and banged up chins, with courteous
hearts and boyish grins. When He had completed the task He’d begun, He surely said, “That’s a job well done.”
DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH -- Author Unknown.

A diamond in the rough, is a diamond sure enough,
For before it ever sparkles, it is made of diamond stuff!
Of course, someone must find it, or it never will be found,
And then, someone must grind it or it never will be ground!

And when it’s found and when it’s ground,
And when it’s burnished bright
That diamond’s everlastingly, just flashing out its light!

Oh, teacher, in the Sunday school, (or mom or dad at home)
Don’t say, “I’ve done enough!”
That worst boy in your class may be
A diamond in the rough
Christopher Robin is Saying His Prayers.
~ By A. A. Milne

Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed,
Droops on the little hands little golden head.
Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares!
Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.

God bless Mummy, I know that’s right.
Wasn’t it fun in the bath tonight?
The cold’s so cold, and the hot’s so hot.
Oh! God bless Daddy - I quite forgot.

If I open my fingers a little bit more,
I can see Nanny’s dressing -- gown on the door,
It’s a beautiful blue, but it hasn’t a hood,
Oh! God bless Nanny and make her good.

Mine has a hood, and I lie in bed,
And pull the hood right over my head,
And I shut my eyes, and I curl up small,
And nobody knows that I’m there at all.

Oh! Thank you, God,
For a lovely day,
And what was the other
I had to say?
I said “Bless Daddy,”
so what can it be?
Oh! Now I remember it,
God bless Me.

Little Boy kneels at the
foot of the bed,
Droops on the little
hands little gold head.
Hush! Hush!
Whisper who dares!
Christopher Robin
is saying his prayers.
Little Boy Blue
By Eugene Field

The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket moulds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
And the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.

“Now, don’t you go till I come,” he said,
“And don’t you make any noise!”
So toddling off to his trundle-bed
He dreamt of the pretty toys.
And as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue, --
Oh, the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true!”

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face.
And they wonder, as waiting these long years through,
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue
Since he kissed them and put them there
A Little Boy’s Pockets.
By LaVerne P. Larson

A little boy’s pockets -- what do they hold?
Dozens of treasures more precious than gold;
An old rusty knife with a very dull blade;
A piece of green glass looking like jade;

A key sadly bent that won’t fit any lock;
An intricate part of an old broken clock;
Marbles, some gum, a bit of string, too;
One bottle cap of a beautiful hue;

The foot of a rabbit, a little seashell;
Some bark of a tree, a tiny red bell;
A little lead soldier, some thick rubber bands;
A stamp and two coins from far distant lands;

Part of a map all tattered and torn;
A whistle of tin quite battered and worn;
A frog or a snake he has captured himself;
And six shiny pennies add to his wealth.

With all of these treasures, he’s rich as two kings;
A little boy’s pockets are marvelous things.
~> @ <~
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Jesus loves me, this I know . . .
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