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Index of Poems:
The Poetry Corner
After a While
Page One
Persistence
I'd Pick More Daisies
If
Only What I Need
Warning
Page Two
The Man In the Glass
As Fall the Leaves
Touch of the Master's Hand
How Do I Love Thee
Page Three
Desiderata
Page Four
Wear Sunscreen
Page Five
The Road Not Taken
The Invitation
Page Six
I've Learned
Page Seven
Your Children
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When you get what you want in your struggle for self.
And the world makes you king for a day.
Just go to a mirror and look at yourself.
And see what THAT man has to say.
For it isn't your father or mother or wife,
Whose judgment upon you must pass,
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
is the one staring back from the glass.
Some people might think you're a straight-shootin' chum,
And call you a wonderful guy.
But the man in the glass says you're only a bum,
If you can't look him straight in the eye.
He's the fellow to please, never mind all the rest,
For he's with you clear up to the end.
And you've passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the guy in the glass is your friend.
You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years.
And get pats on the back as you pass.
But your final reward will be heartaches and tears
If you've cheated the man in the glass.
Dale Wimbrow 1895-1954
As fall the leaves, so drop the days
In silence from the tree of life;
Born for a little while to blaze
In action in the heat of strife,
And then to shrivel with Time's blast
And fade forever in the past.
To all it offered gentle shade;
Men knew the splendor of its green
What cheered them so, would quickly fade:
And quickly, too, must pass away
All that is splendid of to-day.
To try to keep the leaves were vain,
Men understand that they must fall;
Why should they bitterly complain
When sorrows come to one and all?
Why should they mourn the passing day
That must depart along the way?
Edgar Guest
Twas battered and scarred,
And the old auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
to waste much time on the old violin,
But held it up with a smile:
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start the bidding for me?"
"A dollar, a dollar"; then, "Two!" "Only two?
Two dollars, and who'll make it three?
Three dollars, once; three dollars, twice;
going for three ..." but no.
From the room far back, a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then, wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening the loose strings,
He played a melody pure and sweet
As a caroling angel sings.
The music ceased, and the auctioneer,
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said; "What am I bidden for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow.
"A thousand! And who'll make it two?
Two thousand! And who'll make it three?
Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice,
And going, and gone," said he.
The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand
What changed it's worth." Swift came the reply:
"The touch of the master's hand."
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and scarred with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd,
Much like this old violin.
A "mess of pottage,"
a glass of wine;
A game; and he travels on.
He is "going" once,
"going" twice,
He's "going" and almost "gone."
But the Master comes, and the foolish crowd
Never can quite understand
The worth of a soul and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the Master's hand.
Myra Brooks Welch
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
for the ends of Being and Ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right:
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise:
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith;
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, - I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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