THE TWO TREES - by William Butler Yeats

 

THE TWO TREES by William Butler Yeats Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,The holy tree is growing there;From joy the holy branches start,And all the trembling flowers they bear.The changing colours of its fruitHave dowered the stars with merry light;The surety of its hidden rootHas planted quiet in the night;The shaking of its leafy headHas given the waves their melody,And made my lips and music wed,Murmuring a wizard song for thee.There the Loves a circle go,The flaming circle of our days,Gyring, spiring to and froIn those great ignorant leafy ways;Remembering all that shaken hairAnd how the winged sandals dart,Thine eyes grow full of tender care:Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.Gaze no more in the bitter glassThe demons, with their subtle guile.Lift up before us when they pass,Or only gaze a little while;For there a fatal image growsThat the stormy night receives,Roots half hidden under snows,Broken boughs and blackened leaves.For ill things turn to barrennessIn the dim glass the demons hold,The glass of outer weariness,Made when God slept in times of old.There, through the broken branches, goThe ravens of unresting thought;Flying, crying, to and fro,Cruel claw and hungry throat,Or else they stand and sniff the wind,And shake their ragged wings; alas!Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:Gaze no more in the bitter glass.

I LOVE A TREE - by Samuel N. Baxter

I LOVE A TREE by Samuel N. Baxter When I pass on to my reward,Whatever that may be,I’d like my friends to think of meAs one who loved a tree. I may not have a statesman’s poise,Nor thrill a crowd with speech,But I can benefit mankindIf I set out a beech. If I transport a sapling oakTo rear its mighty head,’Twill shade and shelter those who comeLong after I am dead. If in the park I plant an elm,Where children come to play,To them ’twill be a childhood shrineThat will not soon decay. Of if I plant a tree with fruit,On which the birds may feed,I’ve helped to foster feathered friends,And that’s a worthy deed. For winter, when the days grow shortAnd spirits may run low,I’d plant a pine upon the ‘scape;’Twould lend a cheering glow. I’d like a tree to mark the spotWhere I am laid to rest,To me ‘twould be an epitaphThat I would love the best. And though not carved upon a stoneFor those who come to see,My friends would know that resting hereIs one who loved a tree.

WOMAN OR WITCH ? - by Survi Sharma

 

WOMAN  OR  WITCH ? by  Survi Sharma  have you ever wondered what would be your condition when you are proclaimed a witch so terrible the experience may be but dear reader, if you want to know just travel to some villages of Bihar and Rajasthan, women are treated as if they were a witch they are beaten endlessly, sometimes being killed, and people take pride doing this are we living under better infrastructure, no my friend, it is a slur on the face of our country, we have to clean it with the passage of time.

A STILL MOMENT - by Abimbola T. Alabi

 

A  STILL  MOMENT by Abimbola T. Alabi Take a moment.Put the worries behind.Take in the beauty around.Let it relax your mind. Watch the golden glowOf the rising morning sun.Embrace the peaceful auraOf the break of dawn. Savor the soft caressOf the gently moving breeze.Listen to its nifty tuneAmong the swaying trees. Enjoy the lovely sceneOf a floating butterfly.Graceful flight and happy tweetsOf a bird perched up high. Peruse the evening skyIn its dazzling splendor.The wide and open palletMerging shapes and colors. Relish the loving sightOf children having fun,Skipping feet and carefree voicesUnder the setting sun. Spare a still momentEvery once in a while.Take in the beauty around.Take it in with a smile.

GIFTS - by Alora M. Knight

 

GIFTS by Alora M. Knight I wonder if we realizeThe gifts that we've been given,The endless flow of beautyBestowed on us by heaven. A rainbow arcing 'cross the skiesShares its radiant hues,While clouds that tumble here and therePortray fantastic views. Nighttime's filled with countless stars,Each shares a twinkling lightWhile the moon rotates in gloryAs it travels throughout the night. Those who welcome early dawnSee beauty unsurpassed.The evening sun surrenders day,Its glowing lights amassed. It's there for everyone to share,To benefit thereby.A beauty that is freely givenTo those who look up at the sky.

THE TRUE MEANING OF LIFE - by Patricia A. Fleming

 

THE  TRUE  MEANING  OF  LIFE by Patricia A. Fleming The Years have passed by,In the blink of an eye,Moments of sadness,And joy have flown by. People I loved,Have come and have gone,But the world never stopped,And we all carried on. Life wasn't easy,And the struggles were there,Filled with times that it mattered,Times I just didn't care. I stood on my own,And I still found my way,Through some nights filled with tears,And the dawn of new days. And now with old age,It's become very clear,Things I once found important,Were not why I was here. And how many things,That I managed to buy,Were never what made me,Feel better inside. And the worries and fears,That plagued me each day,In the end of it all,Would just fade away. But how much I reached out,To others when needed,Would be the true measure,Of how I succeeded. And how much I shared,Of my soul and my heart,Would ultimately be,What set me apart. And what's really important,Is my opinion of me,And whether or not,I'm the best I can be. And how much more kindness,And love I can show,Before the Lord tells me,It's my time to go.

THE STRONGEST GIRL I EVER KNEW - by Ronald Doe

 

THE  STRONGEST  GIRL  I  EVER  KNEW by Ronald Doe She never got to dance Or go to her own prom. She never got the chance To forget where she came from. She never got to kiss, A man she idolized. She never felt love's bliss, 'Cause she was paralyzed. She never got to talk About love with a smile. She never got to walk Down a church's aisle. She never got to say Those precious words, "I Do." But she was far and away The strongest girl I ever knew. She couldn't brush her hair Or put make up on her face. She couldn't hold you dear Or give you a warm embrace. She couldn't clasp her hands As if in the form of prayer. She couldn't understand Why she was in a wheelchair. She never showed her fears Or let you hear her cries. She never showed the tears That fell down from her eyes. She never looked for pity Or sympathy from you. That's why she'll always be The strongest girl I ever knew.

LAUGH A LITTLE - Poet Unknown

 

LAUGH  A  LITTLE Poet  Unknown Laugh a little - sing a little, As you go your way ! Work a little - play a little Do this every day ! Give a little - take a little, Never mind a frown - Make your smile a welcome thing All around the town ! Laugh a little - love a little, Skies are always blue! Every cloud has silver linings, But it's up to you !

POEMS FOR CHILDREN - Verse by W · A · FRISBIE - 1901

 

“ONCE ON A TIME.”

If you had lived “once on a time,”

Just as the story books all say,

Oh wouldn’t it have been a sight

To see the knights with dragons fight

And bear their heads away.

And it was “once upon a time,”

That little boys came to be kings;

That fairies flitted here and there

To little girls with presents rare

Rich gowns and diamond rings.

But now, dear me, how things are changed:

And yet, perhaps, ’tis just as well:

For, if ’twere not so long ago,

That all these wondrous things were so,

There’d be no tales to tell.

To Mr. Fox’s barber shop,

The large important Mr. Bear

Once took his chubby, little son

To have the barber trim his hair.

The cloth was tucked about his neck

When, in the mirror large and tall,

He chanced to see another bear

And cuffed the glass to pieces small.

Perhaps there is a funny land

Where rabbits dress in long tailed coats,

And kittens all wear wooden shoes

And schools are taught by learned goats.

Where crocodiles play violins

And owls are decked in gowns and caps;

But if there is a land like this,

You can not find it on the maps.

A very foolish little clam

Each night sat up till very late;

His parents said repeatedly

That he should not thus dissipate.

But he would never heed their words:

He was too headstrong to obey

And thus he had so little sleep

That he was sleepy all the day.

One summer morning on the beach,

He opened wide his shell to yawn.

A big red bird came walking by

A snap, a gulp - the clam was gone!

So, children, though you are too large

For any hungry bird to hold,

You see ’tis much the wiser plan

To go to bed when you are told.

THE AIRSHIPS

The airship fleet of Meadowville

Floats gaily o’er the town;

For older people fully grown,

The craft is thistle down.

The smaller of the meadow folk

On fluffy silk-weed ride:

And there’s a ship for every one

With ships to spare, beside.

THE PIRATE FROG - Verse By W · A · FRISBIE - 1901

 

THE PIRATE FROG

Some boys whose names I do not know,

Went out to sail their boat one day:

Fast to her stern they tied a line

So she could not sail far away

But little did those boys suspect

That, just beyond a floating log,

With all his trusty followers,

There lay in wait the Pirate Frog.

On came the ship; out sprang the frogs

A desperate, determined crew.

They climbed aboard with reckless speed

And each one found his work to do.

One cut the line, one raised the flag,

The captain seized the helm to steer;

And thus, on peaceful Plunkett’s Pond,

Began the Pirate Frog’s career.

Upon the shore of Plunkett’s Pond

Three turtles basked beneath the sun;

’Twas afternoon, the spot was warm,

And they were dozing every one.

Their eyes were closed, they did not see

Around the point a sail appear,

Nor did they know, until too late,

The dreaded Pirate Frog was near.

The pirate crew made haste to land:

They ran to where the turtles lay,

Turned all three quickly on their backs,

Then, hoisting sail, sped fast away.

For hours the turtles strained and scratched

To turn themselves, but all in vain,

Till Mrs. Muskrat came that way

And set them right side up again.

As out of Turtle Bay he sailed,

The Pirate Frog the waters scanned,

And soon he steered his stolen ship

To catch some ducklings far from land.

Around the downy neck of one

A lasso made of cord he cast,

And, though the victim struggled hard,

The cord was strong; the knot held fast.

The other ducklings hurried home,

When this unequal fight began:

All breathlessly they told the news

To Uncle Peter Pelican.

He hurried out across the pond,

And first he cut the duckling’s cord;

Which gave the frightened pirates time

To dive to safety overboard.

Far up the shores of Plunkett’s Pond,

Within a deep and marshy bay,

Amid the rustling rushes green,

The muskrats’ cozy village lay.

Now, when the older rats were gone,

The little ratlings had no fear;

’Twould have been different had they known

The dreaded Pirate Frog was near.

But soon the pirates’ flag was seen

The town was taken by surprise.

One baby rat was caught and bound

And dragged on ship despite his cries.

But soon his bonds were gnawed apart

And he for safety scaled the mast,

His weight aloft o’erset the ship

And he laughed best for he laughed last.

’Twas in July; the sun was hot,

The pond was smooth, the air was still.

The Pirate’s vessel lay becalmed

Without a breeze the sail to fill;

But soon a plan had been devised

To move the ship without a sail:

A diving frog took down a line

And tied it ’round a bull-head’s tail.

The big fish felt a gentle tug,

Then saw the line and jumped with fright.

He tried in vain to shake it off,

And swam away with all his might.

This way and that, at race-horse speed,

He crossed the pond from side to side,

But where he went the ship went, too,

And all the frogs enjoyed the ride.

For weeks the wicked Pirate Frog

Had filled the water folk with fright;

They hid themselves throughout the day,

While few dared venture out at night.

Had he not grown too rash and bold

They might be living that way still;

But his career closed when he tried

To stop the busy water mill.

He planned to drive his stolen ship

Against the wheel and tie it fast.

Nor did he think, on starting out,

That this exploit would be his last.

Too late he saw his grave mistake,

He tried in vain to reach the shore

The pirates’ ship was ground to bits,

And Plunkett’s Pond knew them no more.

Old Daddy Longlegs sat him down

And wept in deepest woe.

“Alas!” he cried, “The summer’s gone

“And soon will come the snow.

“My children beg for warmer clothes,

“But yet I must refuse

“For each one has so many feet

“I can’t buy overshoes.”