Man -- > Poem

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Poem





Night of the south winds - night of the large few
stars!
Still nodding night - mad naked summer night.



—Walt Whitman (1819–1881) "Song of Myself," Leaves of Grass (1855)



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'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone.



—Thomas Moore (1779–1852) "The Last Rose of Summer," Irish Melodies (1807-1834)



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Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set.



—George Noel Gordon, Lord Byron (1788–1824) Don Juan (1819–1824)




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All good things vanish less than in a day,
Peace, plenty, pleasure, suddenly decay.
Go not yet away, bright soul of the sad year,
The earth is hell when thou leav'st to appear.



—Thomas Nash (1567–1601) "Summer's Last Will and Testament" (1600)




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Bright was the summer's noon when quickening steps
Followed each other till a dreary moor
Was crossed, a bare ridge clomb, upon whose top
Standing alone, as from a rampart's edge,
I overlooked the bed of Windermere,
Like a vast river, stretching in the sun.



—William Wordsworth (1770–1850) "Summer Vacation," The Prelude (1805)




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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

William Shakespeare (1564–1616)
from Sonnet 18






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I love you
because the Earth turns round the sun
because the North wind blows north
sometimes
because the Pope is Catholic
and most Rabbis Jewish
because winters flow into springs
and the air clears after a storm


Nikki Giovanni






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As a lily among brambles,
so is my love among maidens.

As an apple tree among the trees of the wood,
so is my beloved among young men.

Attributed to King Solomon - tenth century B.C.






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How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach . . .


Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–1861)







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Come live with me, and be my love;
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods or steepy mountain yields.


Christopher Marlowe (1564–1593)







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Love conquers all things; let us too surrender to Love.Vergil (70–19 B.C.)







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All right. I may have lied to you and about you, and
made a few pronouncements a bit too sweeping,
perhaps, and possibly forgotten to tag the bases
here or there,
And damned your extravagance, and maligned your
tastes, and libeled your relatives, and slandered a
few of your friends,
O.K.,
Nevertheless, come back.


Kenneth Fearing (1902–1961)








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Ah love is bitter and sweet,
but which is more sweet
the bitterness or the sweetness,
none has spoken it.

H.D. -- Hilda Doolittle, 1886–1961









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Give me a kiss, and to that kiss a score;
Then to that twenty, add a hundred more:
A thousand to that hundred: so kiss on,
To make that thousand up a million.
Treble that million, and when that is done,
Let's kiss afresh, as when we first begun.


Robert Herrick 1591–1674










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A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness—
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!

Omar Khayyam (died 1123?)











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Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.

Ben Jonson (1573–1637)












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I think I should have loved you presently,
And given you in earnest words I flung in jest.



Edna St.Vincent Millay (1892–1950)













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O, my Luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my Luve is like the melodie,
That's sweetly played in tune.


Robert Burns (1759–1796)














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Before you kissed me only winds of heaven
Had kissed me, and the tenderness of rain—
Now you have come, how can I care for kisses
Like theirs again?


Sara Teasdale (1884–1933)














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With thee conversing I forget all time,
All seasons and their change, all please alike.



John Milton (1608–1674)















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Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain.


Matthew Arnold 1822–1888
















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Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be



Our luxury!Emily Dickinson (1830–1886)

















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Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime . . .
But at my back I always hear
Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near . . .


Andrew Marvel (1621–1678)


















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. . . for me there lies,
Within the lights and shadows of your eyes,
The only beauty that is never old.


James Weldon Johnson (1871–1938)



















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If things on earth may be to heaven resembled,
It must be love, pure, constant, undissembled.


Aphra Behn (1640–1689)



















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your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully,mysteriously) her first rose



E. E. Cummings 1894–1962




















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Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle:—
Why not I with thine?



Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822)





















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At fourteen I married My Lord you.
I never laughed, being bashful.
Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.
Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.

At fifteen I stopped scowling,
I desired my dust to be mingled with yours
Forever and forever and forever.


Li Po (700?–762)





















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To His Coy Mistress

by Andrew Marvell



Had we but World enough, and Time,
This coyness Lady were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long Loves Day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges side.
Should'st Rubies find: I by the Tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood:
And you should if you please refuse
Till the Conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable Love should grow
Vaster then Empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine Eyes, and on thy Forehead Gaze.
Two hundred to adore each Breast.
But thirty thousand to the rest.
An Age at least to every part,
And the last Age should show your Heart.
For Lady you deserve this State;
Nor would I love at lower rate.

But at my back I alwaies hear
Times winged Charriot hurrying near:
And yonder all before us lye
Desarts of vast Eternity.
Thy Beauty shall no more be found;
Nor, in thy marble Vault, shall sound
My ecchoing Song: then Worms shall try
That long preserv'd Virginity:
And your quaint Honour turn to durst;
And into ashes all my Lust.
The Grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.

Now therefore, while the youthful hew
Sits on thy skin like morning glew,
And while thy willing Soul transpires
At every pore with instant Fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our Time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapt pow'r.
Let us roll all our Strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one Ball:
And tear our Pleasures with rough strife,
Through the Iron gates of Life.
Thus, though we cannot make our Sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.





















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Sonnet


Love is not all: It is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain,
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
and rise and sink and rise and sink again.
Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
pinned down by need and moaning for release
or nagged by want past resolutions power,
I might be driven to sell you love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It may well be. I do not think I would.




Millay, Edna St. Vincent















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At First Sight


'Love at first sight,' some say, misnaming
Discovery of twinned helplessness
Against the huge tug of procreation.

But friendship at first sight? This also
Catches fiercely at the surprised heart
So that the cheek blanches and then blushes.



--Robert Graves

















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To Amarantha, that she would dishevel her Hair

AMARANTHA sweet and fair,
Ah, braid no more that shining hair!
As my curious hand or eye
Hovering round thee, let it fly!

Let it fly as unconfined 5
As its calm ravisher the wind,
Who hath left his darling, th' East,
To wanton o'er that spicy nest.

Every tress must be confest,
But neatly tangled at the best; 10
Like a clew of golden thread
Most excellently ravellèd.

Do not then wind up that light
In ribbands, and o'ercloud in night,
Like the Sun in 's early ray; 15
But shake your head, and scatter day!





Richard Lovelace. 1618–1658












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Gratiana Dancing

SHE beat the happy pavèment—
By such a star made firmament,
Which now no more the roof envìes!
But swells up high, with Atlas even,
Bearing the brighter nobler heaven, 5
And, in her, all the deities.

Each step trod out a Lover's thought,
And the ambitious hopes he brought
Chain'd to her brave feet with such arts,
Such sweet command and gentle awe, 10
As, when she ceased, we sighing saw
The floor lay paved with broken hearts




Richard Lovelace. 1618–1658












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305. Go, lovely Rose

GO, lovely Rose—
Tell her that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
How sweet and fair she seems to be. 5

Tell her that 's young,
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts where no men abide,
Thou must have uncommended died. 10

Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired:
Bid her come forth,
Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired. 15

Then die—that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee;
How small a part of time they share
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!



Edmund Waller. 1606–1687












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i carry your heart


i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)





Edward Estlin Cummings












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maggie and milly and molly and may


maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as the world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea






Edward Estlin Cummings












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O sweet spontaneous


O sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
,has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

beauty .how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
- but
true

to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover

thou answerest

them only with

spring







Edward Estlin Cummings












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Madonna of the Evening Flowers



All day long I have been working,
Now I am tired.
I call: "Where are you?"
But there is only the oak tree rustling in the wind.
The house is very quiet,
The sun shines in on your books,
On your scissors and thimble just put down,
But you are not there.
Suddenly I am lonely:
Where are you?
I go about searching.Then I see you,
Standing under a spire of pale blue larkspur,
With a basket of roses on your arm.
You are cool, like silver,
And you smile.
I think the Canterbury bells are playing little tunes.You tell me that the peonies need spraying,
That the columbines have overrun all bounds,
That the pyrus japonica should be cut back and rounded.
You tell me these things.
But I look at you, heart of silver,
White heart-flame of polished silver,
Burning beneath the blue steeples of the larkspur.
And I long to kneel instantly at your feet,
While all about us peal the loud, sweet `Te Deums' of the Canterbury bells.




Amy Lowell












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Valentine



Chipmunks jump, and
Greensnakes slither.
Rather burst than
Not be with her.

Bluebirds fight, but
Bears are stronger.
We've got fifty
Years or longer.

Hoptoads hop, but
Hogs are fatter.
Nothing else but
Us can matter.




-Donald Hall














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Love Song For Alex,1979


Listen



My monkey-wrench man is my sweet patootie;
the lover of my life, my youth and age.
My heart belongs to him and to him only;
the children of my flesh are his and bear his rage
Now grown to years advancing through the dozens
the honeyed kiss, the lips of wine and fire
fade blissfully into the distant years of yonder
but all my days of Happiness and wonder
are cradled in his arms and eyes entire.
They carry us under the waters of the world
out past the starposts of a distant planet
And creeping through the seaweed of the ocean
they tangle us with ropes and yarn of memories
where we have been together, you and I.






By Margaret Walker




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The Summer I Was Sixteen


Geraldine Connolly

The turquoise pool rose up to meet us,
its slide a silver afterthought down which
we plunged, screaming, into a mirage of bubbles.
We did not exist beyond the gaze of a boy.

Shaking water off our limbs, we lifted
up from ladder rungs across the fern-cool
lip of rim. Afternoon. Oiled and sated,
we sunbathed, rose and paraded the concrete,

danced to the low beat of "Duke of Earl".
Past cherry colas, hot-dogs, Dreamsicles,
we came to the counter where bees staggered
into root beer cups and drowned. We gobbled

cotton candy torches, sweet as furtive kisses,
shared on benches beneath summer shadows.
Cherry. Elm. Sycamore. We spread our chenille
blankets across grass, pressed radios to our ears,

mouthing the old words, then loosened
thin bikini straps and rubbed baby oil with iodine
across sunburned shoulders, tossing a glance
through the chain link at an improbable world.



from Province of Fire, 1998





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THE BUILDING.


"Build me a house," said the Master,
"But not on the shifting sand,
Mid the wreck and roar of tempests,
A house that will firmly stand.


"I will bring thee windows of agates,
And gates of carbuncles bright,
And thy fairest courts and portals
Shall be filled with love and light.


"Thou shalt build with fadeless rubies,
All fashioned around the throne,
A house that shall last forever,
With Christ as the cornerstone.


Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.



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THE BUILDING.


"It shall be a royal mansion,
A fair and beautiful thing,
It will be the presence-chamber
Of thy Saviour, Lord and King.


"Thy house shall he bound with pinions
To mansions of rest above,
But grace shall forge all the fetters
With the links and cords of love.


"Thou shalt he free in this mansion
From sorrow and pain of heart,
For the peace of God shall enter,
And never again depart."

-- -- --




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HOME, SWEET HOME.


Sharers of a common country,
They had met in deadly strife;
Men who should have been as brothers
Madly sought each other's life.


In the silence of the even,
When the cannon's lips were dumb,


Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911




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HOME, SWEET HOME.


Thoughts of home and all its loved ones
To the soldier's heart would come.


On the margin of a river,
'Mid the evening's dews and damps,
Could be heard the sounds of music
Rising from two hostile camps.


One was singing of its section
Down in Dixie, Dixie's land,
And the other of the banner
Waved so long from strand to strand.


In the land where Dixie's ensign
Floated o'er the hopeful slave,
Rose the song that freedom's banner,
Starry-lighted, long might wave.


From the fields of strife and carnage,
Gentle thoughts began to roam,
And a tender strain of music
Rose with words of "Home, Sweet Home."


Then the hearts of strong men melted,
For amid our grief and sin
Still remains that "touch of nature,"
Telling us we all are kin.


Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911


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HOME, SWEET HOME.


In one grand but gentle chorus,
Floating to the starry dome,
Came the words that brought them nearer,
Words that told of "Home, Sweet Home."


For awhile, all strife forgotten,
They were only brothers then,
Joining in the sweet old chorus,
Not as soldiers, but as men.


Men whose hearts would flow together,
Though apart their feet might roam,
Found a tie they could not sever,
In the mem'ry of each home.


Never may the steps of carnage
Shake our land from shore to shore,
But may mother, home and Heaven,
Be our watchwords evermore.

-- -- --
Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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THE PURE IN HEART SHALL SEE GOD.


They shall see Him in the crimson flush
Of morning's early light,
In the drapery of sunset,
Around the couch of night.




Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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THE PURE IN HEART SHALL SEE GOD.


When the clouds drop down their fatness,
In late and early rain,
They shall see His glorious footprints
On valley, hill and plain.


They shall see Him when the cyclone
Breathes terror through the land;
They shall see Him 'mid the murmurs
Of zephyrs soft and bland.


They shall see Him when the lips of health,
Breath vigor through each nerve,
When pestilence clasps hands with death,
His purposes to serve.


They shall see Him when the trembling earth
Is rocking to and fro;
They shall see Him in the order
The seasons come and go.


They shall see Him when the storms of war
Sweep wildly through the land;
When peace descends like gentle dew
They still shall see His hand.


They shall see Him in the city
Of gems and pearls of light,




Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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THE PURE IN HEART SHALL SEE GOD.


They shall see Him in his beauty,
And walk with Him in white.


To living founts their feet shall tend,
And Christ shall be their guide,
Beloved of God, their rest shall be
In safety by His side.

-- -- --





Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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HE "HAD NOT WHERE TO LAY HIS HEAD."


The conies had their hiding-place,
The wily fox with stealthy tread
A covert found, but Christ, the Lord,
Had not a place to lay his head.


The eagle had an eyrie home,
The blithesome bird its quiet rest,
But not the humblest spot on earth
Was by the Son of God possessed.


Princes and kings had palaces,
With grandeur could adorn each tomb,
For Him who came with love and life,
They had no home, they gave no room.







Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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HE "HAD NOT WHERE TO LAY HIS HEAD."





The hands whose touch sent thrills of joy
Through nerves unstrung and palsied frame,
The feet that travelled for our need,
Were nailed unto the cross of shame.


How dare I murmur at my lot,
Or talk of sorrow, pain and loss,
When Christ was in a manger laid,
And died in anguish on the cross.


That homeless one beheld beyond
His lonely agonizing pain,
A love outflowing from His heart,
That all the wandering world would gain.



-- -- --







Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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GO WORK IN MY VINEYARD.


Go work in my vineyard, said the Lord,
And gather the bruised grain;
But the reapers had left the stubble bare,
And I trod the soil in pain.






Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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GO WORK IN MY VINEYARD.


The fields of my Lord are wide and broad,
He has pastures fair and green,
And vineyards that drink the golden light
Which flows from the sun's bright sheen.


I heard the joy of the reapers' song,
As they gathered golden grain;
Then wearily turned unto my task,
With a lonely sense of pain.


Sadly I turned from the sun's fierce glare,
And sought the quiet shade,
And over my dim and weary eyes
Sleep's peaceful fingers strayed.


I dreamed I joined with a restless throng,
Eager for pleasure and gain;
But ever and anon a stumbler fell,
And uttered a cry of pain.


But the eager crowd still hurried on,
Too busy to pause or heed,
When a voice rang sadly through my soul,
You must staunch these wounds that bleed.


My hands were weak, but I reached them out
To feebler ones than mine,






Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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GO WORK IN MY VINEYARD.


And over the shadows of my life
Stole the light of a peace divine.


Oh! then my task was a sacred thing,
How precious it grew in my eyes!
'Twas mine to gather the bruised grain
For the "Lord of Paradise."


And when the reapers shall lay their grain
On the floors of golden light,
I feel that mine with its broken sheaves
Shall be precious in His sight.


Though thorns may often pierce my feet,
And the shadows still abide,
The mists will vanish before His smile,
There will be light at eventide.







Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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RENEWAL OF STRENGTH.


The prison-house in which I live
Is falling to decay,
But God renews my spirit's strength,
Within these walls of clay.








Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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RENEWAL OF STRENGTH.


For me a dimness slowly creeps
Around earth's fairest light,
But heaven grows clearer to my view,
And fairer to my sight.


It may be earth's sweet harmonies
Are duller to my ear,
But music from my Father's house
Begins to float more near.


Then let the pillars of my home
Crumble and fall away;
Lo, God's dear love within my soul
Renews it day by day.







Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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JAMIE'S PUZZLE.


There was grief within our household
Because of a vacant chair.
Our mother, so loved and precious,
No longer was sitting there.




Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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JAMIE'S PUZZLE.

Our hearts grew heavy with sorrow,
Our eyes with tears were blind,
And little Jamie was wondering,
Why we were left behind.


We had told our little darling,
Of the land of love and light,
Of the saints all crowned with glory,
And enrobed in spotless white.


We said that our precious mother,
Had gone to that land so fair,
To dwell with beautiful angels,
And to be forever there.


But the child was sorely puzzled,
Why dear grandmamma should go
To dwell in a stranger city,
When her children loved her so.


But again the mystic angel
Came with swift and silent tread,
And our sister, Jamie's mother,
Was enrolled among the dead.


To us the mystery deepened,
To Jamie it seemed more clear;



Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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JAMIE'S PUZZLE.


Grandma, he said, must be lonesome,
And mamma has gone to her.


But the question lies unanswered
In our little Jamie's mind,
Why she should go to our mother,
And leave her children behind;


To dwell in that lovely city,
From all that was dear to part,
From children who loved to nestle
So closely around her heart.


Dear child, like you, we are puzzled,
With problems that still remain;
But think in the great hereafter
Their meaning will all be plain.



Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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TRUTH.


A rock, for ages, stern and high,
Stood frowning 'gainst the earth and sky,
And never bowed his haughty crest
When angry storms around him prest.
Morn, springing from the arms of night,
Had often bathed his brow with light.



Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





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TRUTH.


And kissed the shadows from his face
With tender love and gentle grace.


Day, pausing at the gates of rest,
Smiled on him from the distant West,
And from her throne the dark-browed Night
Threw round his path her softest light.
And yet he stood unmoved and proud,
Nor love, nor wrath, his spirit bowed;
He bared his brow to every blast
And scorned the tempest as it passed.


One day a tiny, humble seed --
The keenest eye would hardly heed --
Fell trembling at that stern rock's base,
And found a lowly hiding-place.
A ray of light, and drop of dew,
Came with a message, kind and true;
They told her of the world so bright,
Its love, its joy, and rosy light,
And lured her from her hiding-place,
To gaze upon earth's glorious face.


So, peeping timid from the ground,
She clasped the ancient rock around,
And climbing up with childish grace,
She held him with a close embrace;



Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





TRUTH.


Her clinging was a thing of dread;
Where'er she touched a fissure spread,
And he who'd breasted many a storm
Stood frowning there, a mangled form;
A Truth, dropped in the silent earth,
May seem a thing of little worth,
Till, spreading round some mighty wrong,
It saps its pillars proud and strong,
And o'er the fallen ruin weaves
The brightest blooms and fairest leaves.

-- -- --



Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





DEATH OF THE OLD SEA KING.


'Twas a fearful night -- the tempest raved
With loud and wrathful pride,
The storm-king harnessed his lightning steeds,
And rode on the raging tide.


The sea-king lay on his bed of death,
Pale mourners around him bent;
They knew the wild and fitful life
Of their chief was almost spent.


His ear was growing dull in death
When the angry storm he heard,



Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





DEATH OF THE OLD SEA KING.


The sluggish blood in the old man's veins
With sudden vigor stirred.


"I hear them call," cried the dying man,
His eyes grew full of light;
"Now bring me here my warrior robes,
My sword and armor bright.


"In the tempest's lull I heard a voice,
I knew 'twas Odin's call.
The Valkyrs are gathering round my bed
To lead me unto his hall.


"Bear me unto my noblest ship,
Light up a funeral pyre;
I'll walk to the palace of the braves
Through a path of flame and fire."


Oh! wild and bright was the stormy light
That flashed from the old man's eye,
As they bore him from the couch of death
To his battle-ship to die,


And lit with many a mournful torch
The sea-king's dying bed,
And like a banner fair and bright
The flames around him spread.


Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





DEATH OF THE OLD SEA KING.


But they heard no cry of anguish
Break through that fiery wall,
With rigid brow and silent lips
He was seeking Odin's hall.


Through a path of fearful splendor,
While strong men held their breath,
The brave old man went boldly forth
And calmly talked with death.

-- -- --




Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





SAVE THE BOYS.


Like Dives in the deeps of Hell
I cannot break this fearful spell,
Nor quench the fires I've madly nursed,
Nor cool this dreadful raging thirst.
Take back your pledge -- ye come too late!
Ye cannot save me from my fate,
Nor bring me back departed joys;
But ye can try to save the boys.


Ye bid me break my fiery chain,
Arise and be a man again,




Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





SAVE THE BOYS.


When every street with snares is spread,
And nets of sin where'er I tread.
No; I must reap as I did sow.
The seeds of sin bring crops of woe;
But with my latest breath I'll crave
That ye will try the boys to save.


These bloodshot eyes were once so bright;
This sin-crushed heart was glad and light;
But by the wine-cup's ruddy glow
I traced a path to shame and woe.
A captive to my galling chain,
I've tried to rise, but tried in vain --
The cup allures and then destroys.
Oh! from its thraldom save the boys.


Take from your streets those traps of hell
Into whose gilded snares I fell.
Oh! freemen, from these foul decoys
Arise, and vote to save the boys.
Oh, ye who license men to trade
In draughts that charm and then degrade,
Before ye hear the cry, Too late,
Oh, save the boys from my sad fate




Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





NOTHING AND SOMETHING.


It is nothing to me, the beauty said,
With a careless toss of her pretty head;
The man is weak if he can't refrain
From the cup you say is fraught with pain.
It was something to her in after years,
When her eyes were drenched with burning
tears,
And she watched in lonely grief and dread,
And startled to hear a staggering tread.


It is nothing to me, the mother said;
I have no fear that my boy will tread
In the downward path of sin and shame,
And crush my heart and darken his name.
It was something to her when that only son
From the path of right was early won,
And madly cast in the flowing bowl
A ruined body and sin-wrecked soul.


It is nothing to me, the young man cried:
In his eye was a flash of scorn and pride;
I heed not the dreadful things ye tell:
I can rule myself I know full well.





Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





NOTHING AND SOMETHING.


It was something to him when in prison he lay
The victim of drink, life ebbing away;
And thought of his wretched child and wife,
And the mournful wreck of his wasted life.


It is nothing to me, the merchant said,
As over his ledger he bent his head;
I'm busy to-day with tare and tret,
And I have no time to fume and fret.
It was something to him when over the wire
A message came from a funeral pyre --
A drunken conductor had wrecked a train,
And his wife and child were among the slain.


It is nothing to me, the voter said,
The party's loss is my greatest dread;
Then gave his vote for the liquor trade,
Though hearts were crushed and drunkards
made.
It was something to him in after life,
When his daughter became a drunkard's wife
And her hungry children cried for bread,
And trembled to hear their father's tread.


Is it nothing for us to idly sleep
While the cohorts of death their vigils keep?
To gather the young and thoughtless in,
And grind in our midst a grist of sin?





Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





NOTHING AND SOMETHING.


It is something, yes, all, for us to stand
Clasping by faith our Saviour's hand;
To learn to labor, live and fight
On the side of God and changeless light.



Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





VASHTI.


She leaned her head upon her hand
And heard the King's decree --
"My lords are feasting in my halls;
Bid Vashti come to me.


"I've shown the treasures of my house,
My costly jewels rare,
But with the glory of her eyes
No rubies can compare.


"Adorn'd and crown'd I'd have her come,
With all her queenly grace,
And, 'mid my lords and mighty men,
Unveil her lovely face.


"Each gem that sparkles in my crown,
Or glitters on my throne,



Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





VASHTI.


Grows poor and pale when she appears,
My beautiful, my own!"


All waiting stood the chamberlains
To hear the Queen's reply.
They saw her cheek grow deathly pale,
But light flash'd to her eye:


"Go, tell the King," she proudly said,
"That I am Persia's Queen,
And by his crowds of merry men
I never will be seen.


"I'll take the crown from off my head
And tread it 'neath my feet,
Before their rude and careless gaze
My shrinking eyes shall meet.


"A queen unveil'd before the crowd! --
Upon each lip my name! --
Why, Persia's women all would blush
And weep for Vashti's shame!


"Go back!" she cried, and waved her hand,
And grief was in her eye:
"Go, tell the King," she sadly said,
"That I would rather die."





Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





VASHTI.


They brought her message to the King;
Dark flash'd his angry eye;
'Twas as the lightning ere the storm
Hath swept in fury by.


Then bitterly outspoke the King,
Through purple lips of wrath --
"What shall be done to her who dares
To cross your monarch's path?"


Then spake his wily counsellors --
"O King of this fair land!
From distant Ind to Ethiop,
All bow to thy command.


"But if, before thy servants' eyes,
This thing they plainly see,
That Vashti doth not heed thy will
Nor yield herself to thee,


"The women, restive 'neath our rule,
Would learn to scorn our name,
And from her deed to us would come
Reproach and burning shame.


"Then, gracious King, sign with thy hand
This stern but just decree,




Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





VASHTI.


That Vashti lay aside her crown,
Thy Queen no more to be."


She heard again the King's command,
And left her high estate;
Strong in her earnest womanhood,
She calmly met her fate,


And left the palace of the King,
Proud of her spotless name --
A woman who could bend to grief,
But would not bow to shame.





Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THANK GOD FOR LITTLE CHILDREN.


Thank God for little children,
Bright flowers by earth's wayside,
The dancing, joyous lifeboats
Upon life's stormy tide.


Thank God for little children;
When our skies are cold and gray,
They come as sunshine to our hearts,
And charm our cares away.





Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THANK GOD FOR LITTLE CHILDREN.


I almost think the angels,
Who tend life's garden fair,
Drop down the sweet wild blossoms
That bloom around us here.


It seems a breath of heaven
Round many a cradle lies,
And every little baby
Brings a message from the skies.


Dear mothers, guard these jewels.
As sacred offerings meet,
A wealth of household treasures
To lay at Jesus' feet.




Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THE MARTYR OF ALABAMA.


"Tim Thompson, a little negro boy, was asked to dance for the amusement of some white toughs. He refused, saying he was a church member. One of the men knocked him down with a club and then danced upon his prostrate form. He then shot the boy in the hip. The boy is dead; his murderer is still at large." -- News Item.



He lifted up his pleading eyes,
And scanned each cruel face,
Where cold and brutal cowardice
Had left its evil trace.


It was when tender memories
Round Beth'lem's manger lay,




Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THE MARTYR OF ALABAMA.


"Tim Thompson, a little negro boy, was asked to dance for the amusement of some white toughs. He refused, saying he was a church member. One of the men knocked him down with a club and then danced upon his prostrate form. He then shot the boy in the hip. The boy is dead; his murderer is still at large." -- News Item.


And mothers told their little ones
Of Jesu's natal day.


And of the Magi from the East
Who came their gifts to bring,
And bow in rev'rence at the feet
Of Salem's new-born King.


And how the herald angels sang
The choral song of peace,
That war should close his wrathful lips,
And strife and carnage cease.


At such an hour men well may hush
Their discord and their strife,
And o'er that manger clasp their hands
With gifts to brighten life.


Alas! that in our favored land,
That cruelty and crime
Should cast their shadows o'er a day.
The fairest pearl of time.


A dark-browed boy had drawn anear
A band of savage men,
Just as a hapless lamb might stray
Into a tiger's den.





Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THE MARTYR OF ALABAMA.


"Tim Thompson, a little negro boy, was asked to dance for the amusement of some white toughs. He refused, saying he was a church member. One of the men knocked him down with a club and then danced upon his prostrate form. He then shot the boy in the hip. The boy is dead; his murderer is still at large." -- News Item.



Cruel and dull, they saw in him
For sport an evil chance,
And then demanded of the child
To give to them a dance.


"Come dance for us," the rough men said;
"I can't," the child replied,
"I cannot for the dear Lord's sake,
Who for my sins once died."


Tho' they were strong and he was weak,
He wouldn't his Lord deny.
His life lay in their cruel hands,
But he for Christ could die.


Heard they aright? Did that brave child
Their mandates dare resist?
Did he against their stern commands
Have courage to insist?


Then recklessly a man (?) arose,
And dealt a fearful blow.
He crushed the portals of that life,
And laid the brave child low.


And trampled on his prostrate form,
As on a broken toy;





Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THE MARTYR OF ALABAMA.


"Tim Thompson, a little negro boy, was asked to dance for the amusement of some white toughs. He refused, saying he was a church member. One of the men knocked him down with a club and then danced upon his prostrate form. He then shot the boy in the hip. The boy is dead; his murderer is still at large." -- News Item.



Then danced with careless, brutal feet,
Upon the murdered boy.


Christians! behold that martyred child!
His blood cries from the ground;
Before the sleepless eye of God,
He shows each gaping wound.


Oh! Church of Christ arise! arise!
Lest crimson stain thy hand,
When God shall inquisition make
For blood shed in the land.


Take sackcloth of the darkest hue,
And shroud the pulpits round;
Servants of him who cannot lie
Sit mourning on the ground.


Let holy horror blanch each brow,
Pale every cheek with fears,
And rocks and stones, if ye could speak,
Ye well might melt to tears.


Through every fane send forth a cry,
Of sorrow and regret,
Nor in an hour of careless ease
Thy brother's wrongs forget.






Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THE MARTYR OF ALABAMA.


"Tim Thompson, a little negro boy, was asked to dance for the amusement of some white toughs. He refused, saying he was a church member. One of the men knocked him down with a club and then danced upon his prostrate form. He then shot the boy in the hip. The boy is dead; his murderer is still at large." -- News Item.



Veil not thine eyes, nor close thy lips,
Nor speak with bated breath;
This evil shall not always last,
The end of it is death.


Avert the doom that crime must bring
Upon a guilty land;
Strong in the strength that God supplies,
For truth and justice stand.


For Christless men, with reckless hands,
Are sowing round thy path
The tempests wild that yet shall break
In whirlwinds of God's wrath.

-- -- --






Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THE NIGHT OF DEATH.


Twas a night of dreadful horror, --
Death was sweeping through the land;
And the wings of dark destruction
Were outstretched from strand to strand


Strong men's hearts grew faint with terror,
As the tempest and the waves






Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THE NIGHT OF DEATH.


Wrecked their homes and swept them down-
ward,
Suddenly to yawning graves.


'Mid the wastes of ruined households,
And the tempest's wild alarms,
Stood a terror-stricken mother
With a child within her arms.


Other children huddled 'round her,
Each one nestling in her heart;
Swift in thought and swift in action,
She at least from one must part.


Then she said unto her daughter,
"Strive to save one child from death."
"Which one?" said the anxious daughter,
As she stood with bated breath.


Oh! the anguish of that mother;
What despair was in her eye!
All her little ones were precious;
Which one should she leave to die?


Then outspake the brother Bennie:
"I will take the little one."
"No," exclaimed the anxious mother;
"No, my child, it can't be done."






Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THE NIGHT OF DEATH.


"See! my boy, the waves are rising,
Save yourself and leave the child!"
"I will trust in Christ," he answered;
Grasped the little one and smiled.


Through the roar of wind and waters
Ever and anon she cried;
But throughout the night of terror
Never Bennie's voice replied.


But above the waves' wild surging
He had found a safe retreat,
As if God had sent an angel,
Just to guide his wandering feet.


When the storm had spent its fury,
And the sea gave up its dead
She was mourning for her loved ones,
Lost amid that night of dread.


While her head was bowed in anguish,
On her ear there fell a voice,
Bringing surcease to her sorrow,
Bidding all her heart rejoice.


"Didn't I tell you true?" said Bennie,
And his eyes were full of light,




Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THE NIGHT OF DEATH.


"When I told you God would help me
Through the dark and dreadful night?"


And he placed the little darling
Safe within his mother's arms,
Feeling Christ had been his guardian,
'Mid the dangers and alarms.


Oh! for faith so firm and precious,
In the darkest, saddest night,
Till life's gloom-encircled shadows
Fade in everlasting light.


And upon the mount of vision
We our loved and lost shall greet,
With earth's wildest storms behind us,
And its cares beneath our feet.

-- -- --




Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





MOTHER'S TREASURES.


Two little children sit by my side,
I call them Lily and Daffodil;
I gaze on them with a mother's pride,
One is Edna, the other is Will.


Both have eyes of starry light,
And laughing lips o'er teeth of pearl.









Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





MOTHER'S TREASURES.


I would not change for a diadem
My noble boy and darling girl.


To-night my heart o'erflows with joy;
I hold them as a sacred trust;
I fain would hide them in my heart,
Safe from tarnish of moth and rust.


What should I ask for my dear boy?
The richest gifts of wealth or fame?
What for my girl? A loving heart
And a fair and a spotless name?


What for my boy? That he should stand
A pillar of strength to the state?
What for my girl? That she should be
The friend of the poor and desolate?


I do not ask they shall never tread
With weary feet the paths of pain.
I ask that in the darkest hour
They may faithful and true remain.


I only ask their lives may be
Pure as gems in the gates of pearl,
Lives to brighten and bless the world --
This I ask for my boy and girl.










Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





MOTHER'S TREASURES.


I ask to clasp their hands again
'Mid the holy hosts of heaven,
Enraptured say: "I am here, oh! God,
"And the children Thou hast given."

-- -- --











Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THE REFINER'S GOLD.


He stood before my heart's closed door,
And asked to enter in;
But I had barred the passage o'er
By unbelief and sin.


He came with nail-prints in his hands,
To set my spirit free;
With wounded feet he trod a path
To come and sup with me.


He found me poor and brought me gold,
The fire of love had tried,
And garments whitened by his blood,
My wretchedness to hide.


The glare of life had dimmed my eyes,
Its glamour was too bright.
He came with ointment in his hands
To heal my darkened sight.










Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





THE REFINER'S GOLD.


He knew my heart was tempest-tossed,
By care and pain oppressed;
He whispered to my burdened heart,
Come unto me and rest.


He found me weary, faint and worn,
On barren mountains cold;
With love's constraint he drew me on,
To shelter in his fold.


Oh! foolish heart, how slow wert thou
To welcome thy dear guest,
To change thy weariness and care
For comfort, peace and rest.


Close to his side, oh! may I stay,
Just to behold his face,
Till I shall wear within my soul
The image of his grace.


The grace that changes hearts of stone
To tenderness and love,
And bids us run with willing feet
Unto his courts above.



Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





A STORY OF THE REBELLION.


The treacherous sands had caught our boat,
And held it with a strong embrace
And death at our imprisoned crew
Was sternly looking face to face.


With anxious hearts, but failing strength,
We strove to push the boat from shore;
But all in vain, for there we lay
With bated breath and useless oar.


Around us in a fearful storm
The fiery hail fell thick and fast;
And we engirded by the sand,
Could not return the dreadful blast.


When one arose upon whose brow
The ardent sun had left his trace,
A noble purpose strong and high
Uplighting all his dusky face.


Perchance within that fateful hour
The wrongs of ages thronged apace;
But with it came the glorious hope
Of swift deliverance to his race.


Of galling chains asunder rent,
Of severed hearts again made one,



Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





A STORY OF THE REBELLION.


Of freedom crowning all the land
Through battles gained and victories won.


"Some one," our hero firmly said,
"Must die to get us out of this;"
Then leaped upon the strand and bared
His bosom to the bullets' hiss.


"But ye are soldiers, and can fight,
May win in battles yet unfought;
I have no offering but my life,
And if they kill me it is nought."


With steady hands he grasped the boat,
And boldly pushed it from the shore;
Then fell by rebel bullets pierced,
His life work grandly, nobly o'er.


Our boat was rescued from the sands
And launched in safety on the tide;
But he our comrade good and grand,
In our defence had bravely died.



-- -- --




Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





If What we could—were what we would


407

If What we could—were what we would—
Criterion—be small—
It is the Ultimate of Talk—
The Impotence to Tell—





-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





If you were coming in the fall,


If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spum,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.

If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.







-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






If your Nerve, deny you


292

If your Nerve, deny you—
Go above your Nerve—
He can lean against the Grave,
If he fear to swerve—

That's a steady posture—
Never any bend
Held of those Brass arms—
Best Giant made—

If your Soul seesaw—
Lift the Flesh door—
The Poltroon wants Oxygen—
Nothing more—






-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






I'll clutch—and clutch


427

I'll clutch—and clutch—
Next—One—Might be the golden touch—
Could take it—
Diamonds—Wait—
I'm diving—just a little late—
But stars—go slow—for night—

I'll string you—in fine Necklace—
Tiaras—make—of some—
Wear you on Hem—
Loop up a Countess—with you—
Make—a Diadem—and mend my old One—
Count—Hoard—then lose—
And doubt that you are mine—
To have the joy of feeling it—again—

I'll show you at the Court—
Bear you—for Ornament
Where Women breathe—
That every sigh—may lift you
Just as high—as I—

And—when I die—
In meek array—display you—
Still to show—how rich I go—
Lest Skies impeach a wealth so wonderful—
And banish me—






-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






I'll send the feather from my Hat!


687

I'll send the feather from my Hat!
Who knows—but at the sight of that
My Sovereign will relent?
As trinket—worn by faded Child—
Confronting eyes long—comforted—
Blisters the Adamant!









-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






I'll send the feather from my Hat!


687

I'll send the feather from my Hat!
Who knows—but at the sight of that
My Sovereign will relent?
As trinket—worn by faded Child—
Confronting eyes long—comforted—
Blisters the Adamant!












-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






I'm


199

I'm "wife"—I've finished that—
That other state—
I'm Czar—I'm "Woman" now—
It's safer so—

How odd the Girl's life looks
Behind this soft Eclipse—
I think that Earth feels so
To folks in Heaven—now—

This being comfort—then
That other kind—was pain—
But why compare?
I'm "Wife"! Stop there!













-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






I'm ceded—I've stopped being Theirs


508

I'm ceded—I've stopped being Theirs—
The name They dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church
Is finished using, now,
And They can put it with my Dolls,
My childhood, and the string of spools,
I've finished threading—too—

Baptized, before, without the choice,
But this time, consciously, of Grace—
Unto supremest name—
Called to my Full—The Crescent dropped—
Existence's whole Arc, filled up,
With one small Diadem.

My second Rank—too small the first—
Crowned—Crowing—on my Father's breast—
A half unconscious Queen—
But this time—Adequate—Erect,
With Will to choose, or to reject,
And I choose, just a Crown—






-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem







I'm nobody! Who are you?


I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd advertise -- you know!

How dreary to be somebody!
How public like a frog
To tell one's name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!




-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem








I'm saying every day


373

I'm saying every day
"If I should be a Queen, tomorrow"—
I'd do this way—
And so I deck, a little,

If it be, I wake a Bourbon,
None on me, bend supercilious—
With "This was she—
Begged in the Market place—
Yesterday."

Court is a stately place—
I've heard men say—
So I loop my apron, against the Majesty
With bright Pins of Buttercup—
That not too plain—
Rank—overtake me—

And perch my Tongue
On Twigs of singing—rather high—
But this, might be my brief Term
To qualify—

Put from my simple speech all plain word—
Take other accents, as such I heard
Though but for the Cricket—just,
And but for the Bee—
Not in all the Meadow—
One accost me—

Better to be ready—
Than did next morn
Meet me in Aragon—
My old Gown—on—

And the surprised Air
Rustics—wear—
Summoned—unexpectedly—
To Exeter—







-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






I'm sorry for the Dead—Today


529

I'm sorry for the Dead—Today—
It's such congenial times
Old Neighbors have at fences—
It's time o' year for Hay.

And Broad—Sunburned Acquaintance
Discourse between the Toil—
And laugh, a homely species
That makes the Fences smile—

It seems so straight to lie away
From all of the noise of Fields—
The Busy Carts—the fragrant Cocks—
The Mower's Metre—Steals—

A Trouble lest they're homesick—
Those Farmers—and their Wives—
Set separate from the Farming—
And all the Neighbors' lives—

A Wonder if the Sepulchre
Don't feel a lonesome way—
When Men—and Boys—and Carts—and June,
Go down the Fields to "Hay"—







-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






I'm the little


176

I'm the little "Heart's Ease"!
I don't care for pouting skies!
If the Butterfly delay
Can I, therefore, stay away?

If the Coward Bumble Bee
In his chimney corner stay,
I, must resoluter be!
Who'll apologize for me?

Dear, Old fashioned, little flower!
Eden is old fashioned, too!
Birds are antiquated fellows!
Heaven does not change her blue.
Nor will I, the little Heart's Ease—
Ever be induced to do!










-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






I'm the little "Heart's Ease"


176

I'm the little "Heart's Ease"!
I don't care for pouting skies!
If the Butterfly delay
Can I, therefore, stay away?

If the Coward Bumble Bee
In his chimney corner stay,
I, must resoluter be!
Who'll apologize for me?

Dear, Old fashioned, little flower!
Eden is old fashioned, too!
Birds are antiquated fellows!
Heaven does not change her blue.
Nor will I, the little Heart's Ease—
Ever be induced to do!








-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem







Impossibility, like Wine


838

Impossibility, like Wine
Exhilarates the Man
Who tastes it; Possibility
Is flavorless—Combine

A Chance's faintest Tincture
And in the former Dram
Enchantment makes ingredient
As certainly as Doom—







-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem








In Ebon Box, when years have flown


169

In Ebon Box, when years have flown
To reverently peer,
Wiping away the velvet dust
Summers have sprinkled there!

To hold a letter to the light—
Grown Tawny now, with time—
To con the faded syllables
That quickened us like Wine!

Perhaps a Flower's shrivelled check
Among its stores to find—
Plucked far away, some morning—
By gallant—mouldering hand!

A curl, perhaps, from foreheads
Our Constancy forgot—
Perhaps, an Antique trinket—
In vanished fashions set!

And then to lay them quiet back—
And go about its care—
As if the little Ebon Box
Were none of our affair!







-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

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In falling Timbers buried


614

In falling Timbers buried—
There breathed a Man—
Outside—the spades—were plying—
The Lungs—within—

Could He—know—they sought Him—
Could They—know—He breathed—
Horrid Sand Partition—
Neither—could be heard—

Never slacked the Diggers—
But when Spades had done—
Oh, Reward of Anguish,
It was dying—Then—

Many Things—are fruitless—
'Tis a Baffling Earth—
But there is no Gratitude
Like the Grace—of Death—







-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem








In lands I never saw—they say


124

In lands I never saw—they say
Immortal Alps look down—
Whose Bonnets touch the firmament—
Whose Sandals touch the town—

Meek at whose everlasting feet
A Myriad Daisy play—
Which, Sir, are you and which am I
Upon an August day?







-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem




In rags mysterious as these


117

In rags mysterious as these
The shining Courtiers go—
Veiling the purple, and the plumes—
Veiling the ermine so.

Smiling, as they request an alms—
At some imposing door!
Smiling when we walk barefoot
Upon their golden floor!







-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem




In Winter in my Room


1670

In Winter in my Room
I came upon a Worm—
Pink, lank and warm—
But as he was a worm
And worms presume
Not quite with him at home—
Secured him by a string
To something neighboring
And went along.

A Trifle afterward
A thing occurred
I'd not believe it if I heard
But state with creeping blood—
A snake with mottles rare
Surveyed my chamber floor
In feature as the worm before
But ringed with power—

The very string with which
I tied him—too
When he was mean and new
That string was there—

I shrank—"How fair you are"!
Propitiation's claw—
"Afraid," he hissed
"Of me"?
"No cordiality"—
He fathomed me—
Then to a Rhythm Slim
Secreted in his Form
As Patterns swim
Projected him.

That time I flew
Both eyes his way
Lest he pursue
Nor ever ceased to run
Till in a distant Town
Towns on from mine
I set me down
This was a dream.







-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem




Inconceivably solemn!


582

Inconceivably solemn!
Things go gay
Pierce—by the very Press
Of Imagery—

Their far Parades—order on the eye
With a mute Pomp—
A pleading Pageantry—

Flags, are a brave sight—
But no true Eye
Ever went by One—
Steadily—

Music's triumphant—
But the fine Ear
Winces with delight
Are Drums too near—







-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Is Bliss then, such Abyss


340

Is Bliss then, such Abyss,
I must not put my foot amiss
For fear I spoil my shoe?

I'd rather suit my foot
Than save my Boot—
For yet to buy another Pair
Is possible,
At any store—

But Bliss, is sold just once.
The Patent lost
None buy it any more—
Say, Foot, decide the point—
The Lady cross, or not?
Verdict for Boot!




-- -- --




Emily Dickinson -- 1830-1886






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Happy Birthday, Special Treasure



God gave a gift to the world when you were born—
a person who loves, who cares,
who sees a person’s need and fills it,
who encourages and lifts people up,
who spends energy on others
rather than herself,
someone who touches each life she enters,
and makes a difference in the world,
because ripples of kindness flow outward
as each person you have touched, touches others.
Your birthday deserves to be a national holiday,
because you are a special treasure
for all that you’ve done.
May the love you have shown to others
return to you, multiplied.
I wish you the happiest of birthdays,
and many, many more,
so that others have time to appreciate you
as much as I do.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

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Happy Birthday,



Once a year I get the chance
To wish you birthday cheer.
It pleases me no end to say,
I wish you another great year.

So happy birthday to you (name),
From the bottom of my heart.
And may your good times multiply,
Till they’re flying off the chart!




-- -- --




By Karl Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Bright Joy

On your birthday,
I’m thinking about how much light and sparkle
you freely dispense wherever you go,
how your sunny smile lights up any gathering.
Every birthday marks another year
of you radiating positive, happy energy,
contagious happiness
that infects all who come in contact with you.
May your next birthday find you the same--
glowing from within,
beaming bright joy on everyone you meet.
I feel blessed to know you.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

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Birthday poems often express affectionate wishes for the birthday person, as this one does. Give this birthday verse with a birthday gift or put it on a birthday card.

Birthday Wish

It’s your birthday time again;
It’s true; there’s no denying,
Another year has come and gone;
You know that I’m not lying.

So for you, the birthday person,
Here’s what I want to say:
I hope this birthday’s the best one yet,
In every delightful way.

So happy birthday to you.
Have lots of birthday fun!
May your birthday wishes all come true,
Even if you have a ton.



-- -- --




By Karl Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

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Daughter Birthday Poem
Although I wrote this daughter birthday poem in free verse for my own daughter, Kim, it's a daughter birthday greeting that you could use, too, if it fits your daughter.


For (Name), on Her Birthday

It's your birthday, but we got the gift...
a gentle, sweet, beautiful daughter
who is always a pleasure to be with.
You glow with sensitivity and compassion
generated from the depths
of your warm heart and and kind soul.
A loving mom, a peacemaker,
a woman full of the joy of life,
that's you.
Anyone who spends time with you
is privileged to know
such an extraordinary person.
You are a great joy in our lives.
We love you and cherish you and treasure you
and wish that every one of your birthdays
will be the happiest yet.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





A friend birthday poem that tells them how valuable they are to you can make your friendship bond stronger than ever. This free verse (nonrhyming) birthday wish poem sends sentimental hopes and wishes to your friend.


Friend Birthday Poem

Birthday Wishes For My Friend

On your birthday,
I wish for you the fulfillment
of all your fondest dreams.
I hope that for every candle
on your cake
you get a wonderful surprise.
I wish for you that
whatever you want most in life,
it comes to you,
just the way you imagined it,
or better.
I hope you get as much pleasure
from our friendship as I do.
I wish we were sisters,
so I could have known you
from the beginning.
I look forward to
enjoying our friendship
for many more of your birthdays.
I'm so glad you were born,
because you brighten my life
and fill it with joy.

Happy Birthday!




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Brother Birthday Poem
A brother is a good thing to have, so let's not forget a brother birthday poem!


Birthday Poem For Brother

I'm fortunate, and I'm glad
I got you for my brother;
Even if I had the chance,
I wouldn't pick another.

I'm happy you're in my life;
You're my winner, come what may.
May your birthday wishes come true
On your very special day.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Many of our birthday card verses can be customized to the specific recipient. To customize the following happy birthday poem, replace the words "special one" in the first line with your own term, such as the person's name, or "Mother Dear," or "Son of mine," etc.


Happily Ever After

On your birthday, special one,
I wish that all your dreams come true.
May your day be filled with joy,
Wonderful gifts and goodies, too.

On your day I wish for you
Favorite people to embrace,
Loving smiles and caring looks
That earthly gifts cannot replace.


I wish you fine and simple pleasures.
I wish you many years of laughter.
I wish you all of life’s best treasures.
I wish you happily ever after!

Happy Birthday!



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Birthday poetry should make the recipient feel very special, as this poem does. This Happy Birthday poem is perfect for a birthday card verse. Birthday poetry that rhymes, as this birthday rhyme does, makes a great birthday greeting.


Birthday Happiness

As we observe your birthday now,
Your cake and gifts don't matter much.
These common things aren't really you,
Ribbons, paper hats and such.

We celebrate a person who
Brings happiness to everyone,
Someone who gives more than she gets,
And fills our lives with joy and fun.

So Happy Birthday, and many more!
We hope you make it to a hundred and two,
Because we cannot even dream
What life would be like without you.



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Birthday poems can be specific to someone's age. Here's a first birthday poem for baby.


Baby's First Birthday

It's your first birthday, baby,
One candle on your cake;
Proud parents stare in wonder
At each new move you make.

We join in celebration,
As this special date arrives,
For baby has brought pleasure
Into all our lives.

We look forward now to seeing
How you progress and grow,
From the cute and tiny infant
You were one year ago.

So dig into your icing;
Enjoy your presents, too.
The reason for this day
Is a special person--you!



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





50th Birthday Poem
Birthday greetings for that big half century mark are popular. This 50th birthday poem celebrates that event.


The Big Five-Oh

So you are finally fifty;
Happy birthday on the big Five-Oh.
I guess you could fill a great big book
With everything you know.

A whole half century of living
Is nothing to sneeze about,
So if you're a little patched and worn,
Don't you dare frown or pout.

Ignore things that make you feel old;
It's really great to be fifty.
You're smart, attractive and good company,
And I still think you're nifty!



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Funny 40th Birthday Poem
This 40th birthday poem is meant to be light and funny. If you don't think so, or if you find it offensive, please let me know!


Over The Hill At Forty

So it's your fortieth birthday;
Four decades have gone and passed.
They say when you get older,
Time goes twice as fast.

I wouldn't know, of course,
Since I am still quite young,
But for you, the music is over;
Your last song has been sung.

You're just over the hill at forty;
You went down without a fight.
Time rushes on, and soon
That "hill" will be out of sight!

Happy Birthday Anyway!




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Birthday poems can express the value of having the recipient in the sender's life, as this birthday verse does. Birthday poetry with a birthday gift or card will touch the heart of the birthday person.


When Your Birthday Rolls Around

Because you mean so much to me,
I celebrate your birth.
Sharing time and space with you,
Rings my bell for all it’s worth.

Whenever your birthday rolls around,
I contemplate once more,
How happy I am that you were born;
The thought makes my heart soar.

I wish your birthdays happened more,
So I could let you know,
How very much you mean to me,
And so I could let it show!



-- -- --




By Karl Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Many birthday poems are designed to be appropriate for anyone, like this birthday poem. This will go with any birthday gift or birthday e-card.


Birthday Dream

Birthdays are happy events,
Times when dreams come true.
So dream a good dream (and let someone know!),
It just might work for you!

Have a happy celebration
One you’ll always recall,
And be aware on this day of days,
You’re the most special person of all!



-- -- --




By Karl Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Birthday poems can express appreciation, as this birthday poem does. It's so easy to put this birthday poetry on a birthday e-card and send it, even if the birthday person lives halfway around the world.


Birthday Thanks

Another year has come and gone;
The sands of time keep trickling away.
Your birthday reminds me to let you know
I'm thankful for you each and every day.



-- -- --




By Karl Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





I Celebrate You

On your birthday, I celebrate you!
On your special day,
I’m thinking of all the wonderful things you are
that bring so much joy to others, including me!
I celebrate your unconquerable spirit,
that lets you meet every challenge
with confidence, enthusiasm and persistence.
I admire your sensitivity.
You see needs that cry out to be met
that no one else sees,
and you meet them,
out of your deep and caring heart,
out of your wisdom,
out of your strength.
I treasure your uniqueness;
There is no one else like you,
and I feel blessed to know
such an extraordinary person.
I appreciate you, respect you,
cherish you, look up to you.
Happy, happy birthday!
May each new birthday
be the best one ever for you;
You deserve it!



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Happy Birthday, Old Friend

Congratulations to you, my old friend,
Birthday wishes to you, I do send.
You look good for your age, I could say,
But you look good to me any day.

When I look in the mirror, I sigh,
'Cause I know the mirror doesn't lie.
You're aging like me, so you surely can see
That you're getting to be an old guy.




-- -- --




By Karl Fuchs







--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Best Birthday

It’s your birthday...
and I’m thinking how glad I am
that you were born.
You have given me so much--
supported me, encouraged me,
cared for me; I didn't even need to ask.
I celebrate your wonderful self!
I am in awe of your boundless generosity,
your infinite kindness--that gentle inner glow
that you so freely use to warm my life.
Your birthday is as much a celebration for me
as it is for you, maybe more,
and I wish for you the best of birthdays,
the best one ever.
May each birthday be better than the last.
Most of all, I hope you will always be
As happy as you have made me.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs







--> Man

[Man]

Poem





You’re Always There for Me

When the world comes crashing in
And chaos rules my mind,
I turn my heart to you, Lord,
And pure, sweet peace I find.

You lift me out of trouble
You comfort me in pain;
You nourish, heal and cleanse me,
Like cool, refreshing rain.

In times of joy and bliss,
When things are going right,
You lift me even higher,
And fill me with delight.

You listen to my prayers;
You hear my every plea;
I’m safe because I know
You’re always there for me.

-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





To Do List From God

I ran my life in search of worldly things;
My time and will were firmly in control.
I thought I had no need for what God brings;
I gave no heed to murmurs from my soul.

“You’re planning, doing all the time,” it said,
“But something else is missing deep inside.
Your mind is whirling, but your heart is dead,
So turn to God and let go of your pride.”

I did, and God said, “Here’s My plan for you:
Give your life to Me, and just let go.
Have faith and pray, and read the Bible through,
And you’ll have blessings more than you can know.”

So simple, yet it brings me perfect peace,
Living life for God the way I should.
Direction, purpose, fullness and release—
Life with God is very, very good.




-- -- --





By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Just Like Me

Dear Lord, forgive our yielding to temptation;
Forgive our pride, our love of worldly things.
Have mercy on our love of sensual pleasure,
Compassion on the sins that self love brings.

It must be hard to understand us sometimes;
So very different is your heart and mind.
But wait, I just remembered that you do know
What it’s like to be a part of humankind.

You suffered just like we do, and you were tempted.
You lived with us so you could comprehend
The things that we go through each trying day,
So you could give us mercy, and be our friend.

Thank you for compassion and forgiveness;
Thank you for your love and empathy.
Thank you, Lord, for coming down from heaven
To experience life’s trials, just like me.



-- -- --





By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Help Me Forgive

When rage and fury overwhelm my heart,
It’s time to look to God’s own Holy Word.
I search the Bible for His good advice;
My will to His commands must be deferred.

In Romans God reveals His love for me;
In all things God works only for my good;
He gives me blessings I can’t understand;
I’d be peaceful if I’d do the things I should.

Jesus forgave so much; why then can’t I?
I want to mold my life after His own.
I pray, I try, but my sinful nature wins;
Lord, help me, I can’t do this thing alone.

In Colossians, I read about the peace of Christ;
Oh, how I long to feel it in my heart.
All I have to do is to forgive,
But Lord, it seems I don’t know where to start.

I need to walk a mile in the other’s shoes;
They’re doing what they think they have to do.
I know some problems are blessings in disguise,
But Lord, sometimes I feel so doggone blue.

Ephesians says "forgive as the Lord forgave you;
Get rid of anger and every form of malice."
I’d love to just let go and release it all,
But upon my heart is a wound that’s become a callus.

I’ll keep praying, trying, Lord, no matter what;
I’m determined to let go and relinquish blame;
Some day, I’ll say, and be truly sincere:

"I forgive it all in Jesus’ precious name."

Romans 8:28, Colossians 3:13, Ephesians 4:31


-- -- --



By Joanna Fuchs







--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Like You

Lord help me to be in Your holy will;
Tell me what to do today;
Lead me in Your righteousness;
Make me more like You, I pray.

Guard me against this corrupting world,
Its perverted priorities, temptations, too.
Direct my mind toward Your commands,
So I can focus my life on You.

Fill my heart with Your light and love,
So I can assist those I see in need;
With You as my role model, let me be
Like You in thought and word and deed.




-- -- --






By Joanna Fuchs




--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Lord Will Lead You

Now that you're celebrating
Your graduation day,
Your whole life is ahead of you,
And the Lord will lead the way.

Just trust in Him to guide you
In His divine and perfect will.
If you'll pray and read His Holy Word,
His plan you will fulfill.

Whatever happens in your life,
On the Lord you can depend.
There's nothing you can't handle
With Jesus as your best friend.

Congratulations, and may the Lord bless you always!




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






I’m Trying, But…

I’m trying, but…
what I want to do,
I don’t do enough of,
and what I don’t want to do,
I do too much of.
I know the rules for a Christian life,
according to the Bible,
and I’m trying; I really am, but…
heaven and eternity seem so far away,
and the rampantly materialistic world
presses in so close
from every direction, every side,
that I get distracted.
Focus, focus, focus!
I need to focus, laser-like
on a simple, God-centered life.
Do I really need
to make that frivolous purchase,
instead of giving the money
to someone who needs it
so much more than I do?
Can I watch that TV show,
read that book, listen to that song
that contains (and promotes!)
even a little bit
of what the Bible forbids,
without being corrupted?
Do I do enough
to love and help and encourage others?
Pride always hovers,
eagerly waiting
to subdue and conquer humility,
so I think too much of myself.
I know the rules;
the Bible makes everything clear.
Forgive me, Lord;
I’m trying, but…

Romans 7:15
Matthew 6:19
Matthew 22:39
Philippians 4:8




-- -- --



By Joanna Fuchs







--> Man

[Man]

Poem




Nothing We Can’t Handle

No matter what distressing times I face,
When rain and storms replace the sunny weather,
When things I counted on fail to sustain me,
There’s nothing we can’t handle, Lord, together.

If those I thought were friends act more like foes,
If I start to lose the things I hold most dear,
I know that I can tell it all to You;
You want to listen to me and to hear.

When my earthly world dissolves before my eyes,
When problems seem too great for me to bear,
You’ll always be there for me, Lord, I know;
I can come to you on bended knees in prayer.

It’s such a comfort, Lord, to realize,
You’ll always be my King, my Lord, my Friend;
To share my burdens, worries, and my cares,
You’ll love me and support me to the end.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem




More Like Jesus

Let us be more like Jesus
In everything we do;
Let’s live a life of service,
A life that’s fresh and new.

Let’s relinquish worldly things,
And not be slaves to fashion;
Let’s fill our hearts with love,
Forgiveness and compassion.

Yes, let’s be more like Jesus,
Being always in God’s will,
For if Jesus’ light shines through us,
Our earthly purpose we’ll fulfill.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem




God in the Seasons

Lord,
In Spring we are reminded
of the magnificence of Your creation,
as the earth is covered in verdant green,
with splendid splashes of color,
and we witness birth everywhere,
of animals bearing their young,
of buds turning into leaves and flowers
and our own moods being reborn
with renewed energy and life.

Lord,
in Summer, we remember
the warmth of Your love for us
and the light of Your goodness.
Both are everywhere for those who look.
Thank You for butterflies,
birds and wildlife for us to enjoy,
water to swim in,
and weather that frees us to romp and play
while outdoor pleasures are at their peak.

Lord,
In Fall, we thank you for Your cooling breezes,
that bring relief from the relentless summer heat.
We see bright colors fading and dying,
leaves turning brown, crisp, disintegrating,
only to be reborn next year,
reminding us that every living thing, including us,
must die in some way before being reborn.

Lord,
In Winter, as white snow blankets the ground,
we are reminded of Your purity and Your perfection.
The complexity and beauty of each single snowflake
only hints at Your transcendent intelligence and creativity.
We hunker down and snuggle in,
knowing this season will wind down
and Spring will reappear, as it always has
because You created an orderly, predictable universe,
not by chance, but from your flawless design.

Thank You for the seasons, Lord,
and everything in them
that You created for our enjoyment.



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem




Thank You, Sunday School Teacher

Thank you Sunday school teacher
For opening my eyes
To the Bible and to Jesus,
Life’s most precious prize.

Thank you special teacher
For opening my mind
To God and the Holy Spirit,
And for answers you help me find.

Thank you Sunday school teacher
For opening my heart
To eternal life through salvation,
The precious lessons you impart.

Thank you, cherished teacher,
For giving me advice
So that I can know the Lord
And be with Him in paradise.



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem




More Than Ever

In today’s chaotic world,
With everything around us crumbling,
Morality held in contempt,
Our leaders false, corrupt, or bumbling,

More than ever, we need Christ
To lead us through this darkening place;
His absolute truth will light our way;
He’ll lift us with His love and grace.

The Bible is our cornerstone;
In God’s word, we take our stands;
Role models we will strive to be,
Examples of our Lord’s commands.

Dear Lord Jesus, strengthen us
To complete the tasks you’d have us do;
We pray you’ll lead us, guide us now
To know and love and follow you.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Grace


The unconditional love of Christ,
That reaches deeper than we know,
Exists not because of what we are,
But "in spite of," "anyhow," and "even though




-- -- --




By Helen Campbell






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Gift



Earning salvation the world's way
Is impossible to do.
Man tells us to be better;
Jesus asks us to be new.




-- -- --




By Helen Campbell






--> Man

[Man]

Poem







The Demur



Satan, the great Accuser,
Had his day in court with me.
Judge, jury, executioner,
What justice could there be?

Oh, what a host of witnesses
And evidence he raised,
Parading all before my eyes,
While I in horror gazed.

One told of greed and selfish love,
One told of willfulness and pride.
As one by one the charges grew,
Each one I bitterly denied.

Then, to my utter grief and shame,
I knew that what they said was true.
The parts of self I thought were dead
Were still alive, still working through.

In sadness, then, and grief and fear,
The trial, I saw, drew to an end.
I saw my wretched self condemned,
Not worthy even to defend.

I gazed across the courtroom,
Fighting tears of great despair,
And saw that Christ, my Advocate,
Was in attendance there.

My eyes met His and begged to know,
"Lord, what am I to do?"
And silently He whispered back,
"My child, I died for you."

I looked back at my tormentor,
So sure of his victory,
And said, in a voice becalmed by love,
"I'm ready now to state my plea."

"No defense have I against the truth
Of all that you have said of me.
But Jesus knew and still He loved.
And He is my authority."



-- -- --




By Helen Campbell






--> Man

[Man]

Poem







What Do We Love About Christmas?

What do we love about Christmas;
Does our delight reside in things?
Or are the feelings in our hearts
The real gift that Christmas brings.

It's seeing those we love,
And sending Christmas cards, too,
Appreciating people who bring us joy
Special people just like you.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem







The Nicest Present

Under the tree the gifts enthrall,
But the nicest present of them all
Is filling our thoughts with those who care,
Wanting our Christmas joy to share.


To you, whom we're often thinking of,
We send our holiday joy and love.




-- -- --




By Joanna and Karl Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem








Christmas Joys

Evergreen boughs that fill our homes
With fragrant Christmas scents,
Hearts filled with the loving glow
That Christmas represents;

Christmas cookies, turkeys stuffed,
Festive holly berry,
Little faces bright with joy,
Loved ones being merry;

Parties, songs, beribboned gifts,
Silver bells that tinkle,
Christmas trees and ornaments,
Colorful lights that twinkle;

Relatives waiting with open arms
To smile and hug and kiss us;
These are some of the special joys
That come along with Christmas.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem







Recipe for Christmas All Year Long

Take a heap of child-like wonder
That opens up our eyes
To the unexpected gifts in life—
Each day a sweet surprise.

Mix in fond appreciation
For the people whom we know;
Like festive Christmas candles,
Each one has a special glow.

Add some giggles and some laughter,
A dash of Christmas food,
(Amazing how a piece of pie
Improves our attitude!)

Stir it all with human kindness;
Wrap it up in love and peace,
Decorate with optimism, and
Our joy will never cease.

If we use this healthy recipe,
We know we will remember
To be in the Christmas spirit,
Even when it's not December.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Christmas Fun

The tempting gifts are tantalizing;
About opening them, we are fantasizing.
The holiday foods are appetizing;
Our excitement and joy are growing and rising;
Our hearts and minds are harmonizing;
Jolly Christmas fun we're maximizing!




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Christmas Magic

Are we too grownup to feel a thrill
As we light the Christmas tree?
Are we immune to cookies,
Christmas cards and Christmas glee?

Are we too adult to "Ooh" and "Aah"
At the Christmas candle's glow?
Are we blasé about our gifts;
Do we shun the mistletoe?

Are we too mature for carols,
For merry or for jolly?
Do the decorations leave us cold,
The ornaments and holly?

Fat chance! We'll never grow too old
To love the Christmas magic.
A year without a Christmas
Would be boring, even tragic.

So bring it on! The candy canes,
The feasting and good cheer;
O Christmas, lovely Christmas,
You're the highlight of the year!




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Family Joys

Christmas is filled with special joys,
And the very best of all
Is contemplating those dear to us,
And the memories we recall.

We often think at Christmas time
Of people, affectionately,
And we realize how blessed we are
To have you in our family.

-- or, "To be in your family," or, "To be part of your family."




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem





Year-Round Joy

Christmas is full of shiny things
That sparkle, gleam and glow;
These holiday pleasures dazzle us,
And yet, deep down, we know...

That Christmas has its special gifts,
But our year-round joy depends
On the cherished people in our lives,
Our family and our friends.





-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






The Christmas Gift of Knowing You

The Christmas season fills our hearts with joy;
Bright, happy days bring special kinds of pleasure.
We're wrapped in the excitement of it all,
The sights, the sounds, the smells, the tastes we treasure.

Yet when we have some quiet time to think
About our finest blessings all year through,
We focus on our family and our friends,
And appreciate the gift of knowing you!





-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






For My Teacher At Christmas

Christmas vacation is great;
My time is mine to spend;
I can be with friends or watch TV;
I wish it would never end.

I don't miss school or homework;
I really like to be free;
But I'll miss you when I'm gone from school;
You're just what a teacher should be.

So have a perfect Christmas;
Be sure to have lots of fun;
I look forward to seeing you again,
When Christmas vacation is done.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Christmas Love

At Christmastime I think of all the gifts
That bring me great delight and sweet surprise,
But nothing in this world can bring such joy
As you do, when you look into my eyes.

And when I contemplate what Christmas means,
The caring and the giving--I confess,
You've given me the things I want the most:
Your love, your touch, your kiss, your warm caress.

The Christmas tree reminds me, with its lights
That just the thought of you sets me aglow;
You light me up from deep within my heart,
Because I cherish you, and love you so.

With you it's Christmas all the time, sweetheart.
I treasure every hour and every minute.
Your love is all I'll ever want because,
My life is so fulfilling with you in it.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Be My Christmas Gift

If you sat beneath the Christmas tree,
You’d sure add to the décor,
But even if you were gift wrapped,
I couldn't love you more.

You have to know that if I had you,
I’d have the gift I’d most adore,
Better than any expensive gift
I could purchase in a store.

If you hug me tight, you wonderful thing,
And be my Christmas gift,
You’ll brighten my days forevermore
And give my heart a lift.



-- -- --




By Karl Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Christmas New Year Wish

I made a Christmas wish for you,
For a holiday full of pleasure,
Friends and family all around,
And memories to treasure.

I wish for you a Christmas filled
With joyous holiday cheer;
I wish you a Merry Christmas,
And a very Happy New Year!



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

We're wishing you a Christmas
Full of laughter, love and light,
With delicious holiday foods
To excite your appetite.

We're hoping you receive
Delightful gifts to make you smile,
With family and friends
To love you all the while.

We wish you a Merry Christmas;
May your Christmas dreams come true,
And when Christmas is over,
Happy New Year, too!



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Toy Escape

Late Christmas Eve, when all was still,
And the room was dark as night,
The Christmas tree lit magically;
It was a fantastic sight!

Then from around the tree trunk now,
There came a funny sound,
As gifts began to unwrap themselves,
And toys jumped out all around.

The music box began to play,
And in a crazy trance,
The candy canes jumped off the tree
To do a silly dance.

The big stuffed bear leaped to his feet,
To see what he could see;
He rode a shiny, bright red bike
Around the Christmas tree.

The new toy kitchen started to cook,
And before you could blink an eye,
The oven door opened, and from inside
Came a tiny pizza pie.

A squirt gun squirted everything;
It knew what it was for;
By the time that it was finished,
A big puddle lay on the floor.

A beautiful doll with golden hair
Was searching for a friend;
A toy soldier marched up and took her hand;
They were a perfect blend.

In the bedroom were a boy and girl;
Asleep in Christmas dreams;
The soldier saluted; the doll gave a kiss;
At least that's the way it seems.

Now everything began to tire;
The toys went back in place.
But when mother woke in the morning,
You should have seen her face.

The tree was fine; the gifts were there,
Yet mother gave a roar;
She looked at her wet shoes and yelled,
"What's this puddle on my floor?"




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Holiday Feasting

Holiday time is for feasting;
We look forward to each treat.
The tables are full of our favorite foods;
We’ve got lots of good things to eat.

We scarf marshmallowed sweet potatoes;
There’s cider and eggnog to slurp.
There’s so much going down at once,
Who can help an occasional burp?

Here’s the turkey, dressing and gravy;
Let’s all get down to chewing it,
And if we pass a little gas,
Who’ll notice? Everyone’s doing it.

Dessert is three kinds of pie;
Then pass the box of candy.
Next year will you please remind us
To have Alka-Seltzer handy!





-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






This Christmas

We hope this Christmas enriches your life;
May each day be happy and bright,
Overflowing with pleasure and love;
May your Christmas be filled with delight.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Memories To Treasure

May the days until Christmas be full of sweet pleasure,
And your holidays create joyful memories to treasure.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Christmas wish

Christmas trees, presents and holly wreaths,
Stockings hung over the fireplace,
Caroling singers to fill the streets,
The feeling of love like a warm embrace.

That’s my wish for you for Christmas!




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






Those Who Are Dear

The turkey's bought and will soon be stuffed;
The guest room's ready, the pillows fluffed.
The closet's full of holiday gifts;
The snow is here, piled up in drifts.


Our plans are made for the coming New Year;
Now it's time to contemplate those who are dear.
We're thinking of you and how special you are;
Right next to your name, we've put a star.

“Why?” you ask; well here's a clue:
We feel so blessed that we know you.

Happy Holidays!




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






GOING EAST.


She came from the East a fair, young bride,
With a light and a bounding heart,
To find in the distant West a home
With her husband to make a start.




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






GOING EAST.


He builded his cabin far away,
Where the prairie flower bloomed wild;
Her love made lighter all his toil,
And joy and hope around him smiled.


She plied her hands to life's homely tasks,
And helped to build his fortunes up;
While joy and grief, like bitter and sweet,
Were mingled and mixed in her cup.


He sowed in his fields of golden grain,
All the strength of his manly prime;
Nor music of birds, nor brooks, nor bees,
Was as sweet as the dollar's chime.


She toiled and waited through weary years
For the fortune that came at length;
But toil and care and hope deferred,
Had stolen and wasted her strength.


The cabin changed to a stately home,
Rich carpets were hushing her tread;
But light was fading from her eye,
And the bloom from her cheek had fled.


Slower and heavier grew her step,
While his gold and his gains increased;




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






GOING EAST.


But his proud domain had not the charm
Of her humble home in the East.


Within her eye was a restless light,
And a yearning that never ceased,
A longing to see the dear old home
She had left in the distant East.


A longing to clasp her mother's hand,
And nestle close to her heart,
And to feel the heavy cares of life
Like the sun-kissed shadows depart.


Her husband was adding field to field,
And new wealth to his golden store;
And little thought the shadow of death
Was entering in at his door.


He had no line to sound the depths
Of her tears repressed and unshed;
Nor dreamed 'mid plenty a human heart
Could be starving, but not for bread.


The hungry heart was stilled at last;
Its restless, baffled yearning ceased.
A lonely man sat by the bier
Of a corpse that was going East.




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






THE HERMIT'S SACRIFICE.


From Rome's palaces and villas
Gaily issued forth a throng;
From her humbler habitations
Moved a human tide along.


Haughty dames and blooming maidens,
Men who knew not mercy's sway,
Thronged into the Coliseum
On that Roman holiday.


From the lonely wilds of Asia,
From her jungles far away,
From the distant torrid regions,
Rome had gathered beasts of prey.


Lions restless, roaring, rampant,
Tigers with their stealthy tread,
Leopards bright, and fierce, and fiery,
Met in conflict wild and dread.


Fierce and fearful was the carnage
Of the maddened beasts of prey,
As they fought and rent each other
Urged by men more fierce than they.


Till like muffled thunders breaking
On a vast and distant shore,





-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






THE HERMIT'S SACRIFICE.


Fainter grew the yells of tigers,
And the lions' dreadful roar.


On the crimson-stained arena
Lay the victims of the fight;
Eyes which once had glared with anguish,
Lost in death their baleful light.


Then uprose the gladiators
Armed for conflict unto death,
Waiting for the prefect's signal,
Cold and stern with bated breath.


"Ave Caesar, morituri,
Te, salutant," rose the cry
From the lips of men ill-fated,
Doomed to suffer and to die.


Then began the dreadful contest,
Lives like chaff were thrown away,
Rome with all her pride and power
Butchered for a holiday.


Eagerly the crowd were waiting,
Loud the clashing sabres rang;
When between the gladiators
All unarmed a hermit sprang.






-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






THE HERMIT'S SACRIFICE.


"Cease your bloodshed," cried the hermit,
"On this carnage place your ban;"
But with flashing swords they answered,
"Back unto your place, old man."


From their path the gladiators
Thrust the strange intruder back,
Who between their hosts advancing
Calmly parried their attack.


All undaunted by their weapons,
Stood the old heroic man;
While a maddened cry of anger
Through the vast assembly ran.


"Down with him," cried out the people,
As with thumbs unbent they glared,
Till the prefect gave the signal
That his life should not be spared.


Men grew wild with wrathful passion,
When his fearless words were said
Cruelly they fiercely showered
Stones on his devoted head.


Bruised and bleeding fell the hermit,
Victor in that hour of strife;







-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






THE HERMIT'S SACRIFICE.


Gaining in his death a triumph
That he could not win in life.


Had he uttered on the forum
Struggling thoughts within him born,
Men had jeered his words as madness,
But his deed they could not scorn.


Not in vain had been his courage,
Nor for naught his daring deed;
From his grave his mangled body
Did for wretched captives plead.


From that hour Rome, grown more thoughtful,
Ceased her sport in human gore;
And into her Coliseum
Gladiators came no more.







-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






SONGS FOR THE PEOPLE.


Let me make the songs for the people,
Songs for the old and young;
Songs to stir like a battle-cry
Wherever they are sung.


Not for the clashing of sabres,
For carnage nor for strife;







-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






SONGS FOR THE PEOPLE.


But songs to thrill the hearts of men
With more abundant life.


Let me make the songs for the weary,
Amid life's fever and fret,
Till hearts shall relax their tension,
And careworn brows forget.


Let me sing for little children,
Before their footsteps stray,
Sweet anthems of love and duty,
To float o'er life's highway.


I would sing for the poor and aged,
When shadows dim their sight;
Of the bright and restful mansions,
Where there shall be no night.


Our world, so worn and weary,
Needs music, pure and strong,
To hush the jangle and discords
Of sorrow, pain, and wrong.


Music to soothe all its sorrow,
Till war and crime shall cease;
And the hearts of men grown tender
Girdle the world with peace.




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






LET THE LIGHT ENTER.
The dying words of Goethe.



"Light! more light! the shadows deepen,
And my life is ebbing low,
Throw the windows widely open:
Light! more light! before I go.


"Softly let the balmy sunshine
Play around my dying bed,
E'er the dimly lighted valley
I with lonely feet must tread.


"Light! more light! for Death is weaving
Shadows 'round my waning sight,
And I fain would gaze upon him
Through a stream of earthly light."


Not for greater gifts of genius;
Not for thoughts more grandly bright,
All the dying poet whispers
Is a prayer for light, more light.


Heeds he not the gathered laurels,
Fading slowly from his sight;
All the poet's aspirations
Centre in that prayer for light.




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






LET THE LIGHT ENTER.

The dying words of Goethe.



Gracious Saviour, when life's day-dreams
Melt and vanish from the sight,
May our dim and longing vision
Then be blessed with light, more light.





-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






AN APPEAL TO MY COUNTRYWOMEN.


You can sigh o'er the sad-eyed Armenian
Who weeps in her desolate home.
You can mourn o'er the exile of Russia
From kindred and friends doomed to roam.


You can pity the men who have woven
From passion and appetite chains
To coil with a terrible tension
Around their heartstrings and brains.


You can sorrow o'er little children
Disinherited from their birth,
The wee waifs and toddlers neglected,
Robbed of sunshine, music and mirth.


For beasts you have gentle compassion;
Your mercy and pity they share.
For the wretched, outcast and fallen
You have tenderness, love and care.



-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






AN APPEAL TO MY COUNTRYWOMEN.


But hark! from our Southland are floating
Sobs of anguish, murmurs of pain,
And women heart-stricken are weeping
Over their tortured and their slain.


On their brows the sun has left traces;
Shrink not from their sorrow in scorn.
When they entered the threshold of being
The children of a King were born.


Each comes as a guest to the table
The hand of our God has outspread,
To fountains that ever leap upward,
To share in the soil we all tread.


When ye plead for the wrecked and fallen,
The exile from far-distant shores,
Remember that men are still wasting
Life's crimson around your own doors.


Have ye not, oh, my favored sisters,
Just a plea, a prayer or a tear,
For mothers who dwell 'neath the shadows
Of agony, hatred and fear?


Men may tread down the poor and lowly,
May crush them in anger and hate,




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






AN APPEAL TO MY COUNTRYWOMEN.


But surely the mills of God's justice
Will grind out the grist of their fate.


Oh, people sin-laden and guilty,
So lusty and proud in your prime,
The sharp sickles of God's retribution
Will gather your harvest of crime.


Weep not, oh my well-sheltered sisters,
Weep not for the Negro alone,
But weep for your sons who must gather
The crops which their fathers have sown.


Go read on the tombstones of nations
Of chieftains who masterful trod,
The sentence which time has engraven,
That they had forgotten their God.


'Tis the judgment of God that men reap
The tares which in madness they sow,
Sorrow follows the footsteps of crime,
And Sin is the consort of Woe.




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






THEN AND NOW.


"Build me a nation," said the Lord.
The distant nations heard the word,
Build me a nation true and strong,
Bar out the old world's hate and wrong;
For men had traced with blood and tears
The trail of weary wasting years,
And torn and bleeding martyrs trod
Through fire and torture up to God.


While in the hollow of his hand
God hid the secret of our land,
Men warred against their fiercest foes,
And kingdoms fell and empires rose,
Till, weary of the old world strife,
Men sought for broader, freer life,
And plunged into the ocean's foam
To find another, better home.


And, like a vision fair and bright
The new world broke upon their sight.
Men grasped the prize, grew proud and strong,
And cursed the land with crime and wrong.
The Indian stood despoiled of lands,
The Negro bound with servile bands,
Oppressed through weary years of toil,
His blood and tears bedewed the soil.



-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






THEN AND NOW.


Then God arose in dreadful wrath,
And judgment streamed around his path;
His hand the captive's fetters broke,
His lightnings shattered every yoke.
As Israel through the Red sea trod,
Led by the mighty hand of God,
They passed to freedom through a flood,
Whose every wave and surge was blood.


And slavery, with its crime and shame,
Went down in wrath and blood and flame
The land was billowed-o'er with graves
Where men had lived and died as slaves.
Four and thirty years -- what change since
then!
Beings once chattles now are men;
Over the gloom of slavery's night,
Has flashed the dawn of freedom's light.


To-day no mother with anguish wild
Kneels and implores that her darling child
Shall not be torn from her bleeding heart,
With its quivering tendrils rent apart.
The father may soothe his child to sleep,
And watch his slumbers calm and deep.
No tyrant's tread will disturb his rest
Where freedom dwells as a welcome guest.



-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






THEN AND NOW.


His walls may be bare of pictured grace,
His fireside the lowliest place;
But the wife and children sheltered there
Are his to defend and guard with care.
Where haughty tyrants once bore rule
Are ballot-box and public school.
The old slave-pen of former days
Gives place to fanes of prayer and praise.


To-night we would bring our meed of praise
To noble friends of darker days;
The men and women crowned with light,
The true and tried in our gloomy night.
To Lundy, whose heart was early stirred
To speak for freedom an earnest word;
To Garrison, valiant, true and strong,
Whose face was as flint against our wrong.


And Phillips, the peerless, grand and brave,
A tower of strength to the outcast slave.
Earth has no marble too pure and white
To enrol his name in golden light.
Our Douglass, too, with his massive brain,
Who plead our cause with his broken chain,
And helped to hurl from his bloody seat
The curse that writhed and died at his feet.


-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






THEN AND NOW.


And Governor Andrew, who, looking back,
Saw none he despised, though poor and black;
And Harriet Beecher, whose glowing pen
Corroded the chains of fettered men.
To-night with greenest laurels we'll crown
North Elba's grave where sleeps John Brown,
Who made the gallows an altar high,
And showed how a brave old man could die.
And Lincoln, our martyred President,
Who returned to his God with chains he had rent.*
And Sumner, amid death's icy chill,
Leaving to Hoar his Civil Rights Bill.
And let us remember old underground,
With all her passengers northward bound,
The train that ran till it ceased to pay,
With all her dividends given away.
Nor let it be said that we have forgot
The women who stood with Lucretia Mott;
Nor her who to the world was known
By the simple name of Lucy stone.
A tribute unto a host of others
Who knew that men though black were brothers,
Who battled against our nation's sin,
Whose graves are thick whose ranks are thin.
Oh, people chastened in the fire,
To nobler, grander things aspire;


-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

[Man]

Poem






THEN AND NOW.


In the new era of your life,
Bring love for hate, and peace for strife;
Upon your hearts this vow record
That ye will build unto the Lord
A nobler future, true and grand,
To strengthen, crown and bless the land.
A higher freedom ye may gain
Than that which comes from a riven chain;
Freedom your native land to bless
With peace, and love and righteousness,
As dreams that are past, a tale all told,
Are the days when men were bought and sold;
Now God be praised from sea to sea,
Our flag floats o'er a country free.



-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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MACEO.


Maceo dead! a thrill of sorrow
Through our hearts in sadness ran
When we felt in one sad hour
That the world had lost a man.


He had clasped unto his bosom
The sad fortunes of his land --
Held the cause for which he perished
With a firm, unfaltering hand.





-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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MACEO.



On his lips the name of freedom
Fainted with his latest breath.
Cuba Libre was his watchword
Passing through the gates of death.


With the light of God around us,
Why this agony and strife?
With the cross of Christ before us,
Why this fearful waste of life?


Must the pathway unto freedom
Ever mark a crimson line,
And the eyes of wayward mortals
Always close to light divine?


Must the hearts of fearless valor
Fail 'mid crime and cruel wrong,
When the world has read of heroes
Brave and earnest, true and strong?


Men to stay the floods of sorrow
Sweeping round each war-crushed heart;
Men to say to strife and carnage --
From our world henceforth depart.


God of peace and God of nations,
Haste! oh, haste the glorious day







-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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MACEO.



When the reign of our Redeemer
O'er the world shall have its sway.


When the swords now blood encrusted,
Spears that reap the battle field,
Shall be changed to higher service,
Helping earth rich harvests yield.


Where the widow weeps in anguish,
And the orphan bows his head,
Grant that peace and joy and gladness
May like holy angels tread.


Pity, oh, our God the sorrow
Of thy world from thee astray,
Lead us from the paths of madness
Unto Christ the living way.


Year by year the world grows weary
'Neath its weight of sin and strife,
Though the hands once pierced and bleeding
Offer more abundant life.


May the choral song of angels
Heard upon Judea's plain
Sound throughout the earth the tidings
Of that old and sweet refrain.



-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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MACEO.



Till our world, so sad and weary,
Finds the balmy rest of peace --
Peace to silence all her discords --
Peace till war and crime shall cease.


Peace to fall like gentle showers,
Or on parchéd flowers dew,
Till our hearts proclaim with gladness:
Lo, He maketh all things new.




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






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"FISHERS OF MEN."


I had a dream, a varied dream:
Before my ravished sight
The city of my Lord arose,
With all its love and light.


The music of a myriad harps
Flowed out with sweet accord;
And saints were casting down their crowns
In homage to our Lord.




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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"FISHERS OF MEN."


My heart leaped up with untold joy,
Life's toil and pain were o'er;
My weary feet at last had found
The bright and restful shore.


Just as I reached the gates of light,
Ready to enter in,
From earth arose a fearful cry
Of sorrow and of sin.


I turned, and saw behind me surge
A wild and stormy sea;
And drowning men were reaching out
Imploring hands to me.


And ev'ry lip was blanched with dread,
And moaning for relief;
The music of the golden harps
Grew fainter for their grief.


Let me return, I quickly said,
Close to the pearly gate;
My work is with these wretched ones,
So wrecked and desolate.


An angel smiled and gently said:
This is the gate of life,
Wilt thou return to earth's sad scenes,
Its weariness and strife,





-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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"FISHERS OF MEN."


To comfort hearts that sigh and break,
To dry the falling tear,
Wilt thou forego the music sweet
Entrancing now thy ear?


I must return, I firmly said,
The strugglers in that sea
Shall not reach out beseeching hands
In vain for help to me.


I turned to go; but as I turned
The gloomy sea grew bright,
And from my heart there seemed to flow
Ten thousand cords of light.


And sin-wrecked men, with eager hands
Did grasp each golden cord;
And with my heart I drew them on
To see my gracious Lord.


Again I stood beside the gate.
My heart was glad and free;
For with me stood a rescued throng
The Lord had given me.


-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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THE LOST BELLS.


Year after year the artist wrought
With earnest, loving care,
The music flooding all his soul
To pour upon the air.


For this no metal was too rare,
He counted not the cost;
Nor deemed the years in which he toiled
As labor vainly lost.


When morning flushed with crimson light
The golden gates of day,
He longed to fill the air with chimes
Sweet as a matin's lay.


And when the sun was sinking low
Within the distant West,
He gladly heard the bells he wrought
Herald the hour of rest.


The music of a thousand harps
Could never be so dear
As when those solemn chants and thrills
Fell on his list'ning ear.


He poured his soul into their chimes,
And felt his toil repaid;
He called them children of his soul,
His home a'near them made.



-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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THE LOST BELLS.


But evil days came on apace,
War spread his banner wide,
And from his village snatched away
The artist's love and pride.


At dewy morn and stilly eve
The chimes no more he heard;
With dull and restless agony
His spirit's depths was stirred.


A weary longing filled his soul,
It bound him like a spell;
He left his home to seek the chimes --
The chimes he loved so well.


Where lofty fanes in grandeur rose,
Upon his ear there fell
No music like the long lost chimes
Of his beloved bell.


And thus he wandered year by year.
Touched by the hand of time,
Seeking to hear with anxious heart
Each well remembered chime.


And to that worn and weary heart
There came a glad surcease:
He heard again the dear old chimes,
And smiled and uttered peace.




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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THE LOST BELLS.


"The chimes! the chimes!" the old man cried,
"I hear their tones at last;"
A sudden rapture filled his heart,
And all his cares were past.


Yes, peace had come with death's sweet calm,
His journeying was o'er,
The weary, restless wanderer
Had reached the restful shore.


It may be that he met again,
Enfolded in the air,
The dear old chimes beside the gates
Where all is bright and fair;


That he who crossed and bowed his head
When Angelus was sung
In clearer light touched golden harps
By angel fingers strung.



-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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"DO NOT CHEER, MEN ARE DYING," SAID CAPT. PHILLIPS, IN THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR.


Do not cheer, for men are dying
From their distant homes in pain;
And the restless sea is darkened
By a flood of crimson rain.


Do not cheer, for anxious mothers
Wait and watch in lonely dread;
Vainly waiting for the footsteps
Never more their paths to tread.


Do not cheer, while little children
Gather round the widowed wife,
Wondering why an unknown people
Sought their own dear father's life.


Do not cheer, for aged fathers
Bend above their staves and weep,
While the ocean sings the requiem
Where their fallen children sleep.


Do not cheer, for lips are paling
On which lay the mother's kiss;
'Mid the dreadful roar of battle
How that mother's hand they miss!




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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"DO NOT CHEER, MEN ARE DYING," SAID CAPT. PHILLIPS, IN THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR.


Do not cheer: once joyous maidens,
Who the mazy dance did tread,
Bow their heads in bitter anguish,
Mourning o'er their cherished dead.


Do not cheer while maid and matron
In this strife must bear a part;
While the blow that strikes a soldier
Reaches to some woman's heart.


Do not cheer till arbitration
O'er the nations holds its sway,
And the century now closing
Ushers in a brighter day.


Do not cheer until the nation
Shall more wise and thoughtful grow
Than to staunch a stream of sorrow
By an avalanche of woe.


Do not cheer until each nation
Sheathes the sword and blunts the spear,
And we sing aloud for gladness:
Lo, the reign of Christ is here,


And the banners of destruction
From the battlefield are furled,
And the peace of God descending
Rests upon a restless world.





-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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THE BURDENS OF ALL.


We may sigh o'er the heavy burdens
Of the black, the brown and white;
But if we all clasped hands together
The burdens would be more light.
How to solve life's saddest problems,
Its weariness, want and woe,
Was answered by One who suffered
In Palestine long ago.


He gave from his heart this precept,
To ease the burdens of men,
"As ye would that others do to you
Do ye even so to them."
Life's heavy, wearisome burdens
Will change to a gracious trust
When men shall learn in the light of God
To be merciful and just.


Where war has sharpened his weapons,
And slavery masterful had,
Let white and black and brown unite
To build the kingdom of God.
And never attempt in madness
To build a kingdom or state,
Through greed of gold or lust of power,
On the crumbling stones of hate.


The burdens will always he heavy,
The sunshine fade into night,
Till mercy and justice shall cement
The black, the brown and the white.
And earth shall answer with gladness,
The herald angel's refrain,
When "Peace on earth, good will to men"
Was the burden of their strain.




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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DEDICATION POEM.


Dedication Poem on the reception of the annex to the home for aged colored people, from the bequest of Mr. Edward T. Parker.



Outcast from her home in Syria
In the lonely, dreary wild;
Heavy hearted, sorrow stricken,
Sat a mother and her child.




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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DEDICATION POEM.


Dedication Poem on the reception of the annex to the home for aged colored people, from the bequest of Mr. Edward T. Parker.



There was not a voice to cheer her
Not a soul to share her fate;
She was weary, he was fainting,
And life seemed so desolate.


Far away in sunny Egypt
Was lone Hagar's native land;
Where the Nile in kingly bounty
Scatters bread with gracious hand.


In the tents of princely Abram
She for years had found a home;
Till the stern decree of Sarah
Sent her forth the wild to roam.


Hour by hour she journeyed onward
From the shelter of their tent,
Till her footsteps slowly faltered
And the water all was spent;


Then she veiled her face in sorrow,
Feared her child would die of thirst
Till her eyes with tears so holden
Saw a sparkling fountain burst.


Oh! how happy was that mother,
What a soothing of her pain;




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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DEDICATION POEM.


Dedication Poem on the reception of the annex to the home for aged colored people, from the bequest of Mr. Edward T. Parker.



When she saw her child reviving,
Life rejoicing through each vein


Does not life repeat this story,
Tell it over day by day ?
Of the fountains of refreshment
Ever springing by our way.


Here is one by which we gather,
On this bright and happy day,
Just to bask beside a fountain
Making gladder life's highway.


Bringing unto hearts now aged
Who have borne life's burdens long,
Such a gift of love and mercy
As deserves our sweetest song.


Such a gift that even heaven
May rejoice with us below,
If the pure and holy angels
Join us in our joy and woe.


May the memory of the giver
In this home where age may rest,
Float like fragrance through the ages,
Ever blessing, ever blest.




-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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DEDICATION POEM.


Dedication Poem on the reception of the annex to the home for aged colored people, from the bequest of Mr. Edward T. Parker.



When the gates of pearl are opened
May we there this friend behold,
Drink with him from living fountains,
Walk with him the streets of gold.


When life's shattered cords of music
Shall again be sweetly sung;
Then our hearts with life immortal,
Shall be young, forever young.


-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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A DOUBLE STANDARD.


Do you blame me that I loved him?
If when standing all alone
I cried for bread a careless world
Pressed to my lips a stone.


Do you blame me that I loved him,
That my heart beat glad and free,
When he told me in the sweetest tones
He loved but only me?


Can you blame me that I did not see
Beneath his burning kiss
The serpent's wiles, nor even hear
The deadly adder hiss?



-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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A DOUBLE STANDARD.


Can you blame me that my heart grew cold
The tempted, tempter turned;
When he was feted and caressed
And I was coldly spurned?


Would you blame him, when you draw from me
Your dainty robes aside,
If he with gilded baits should claim
Your fairest as his bride?


Would you blame the world if it should press
On him a civic crown;
And see me struggling in the depth
Then harshly press me down?


Crime has no sex and yet to-day
I wear the brand of shame;
Whilst he amid the gay and proud
Still bears an honored name.


Can you blame me if I've learned to think
Your hate of vice a sham,
When you so coldly crushed me down
And then excused the man?


Would you blame me if to-morrow
The coroner should say,



-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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A DOUBLE STANDARD.



A wretched girl, outcast, forlorn,
Has thrown her life away?


Yes, blame me for my downward course,
But oh! remember well,
Within your homes you press the hand
That led me down to hell.


I'm glad God's ways are not our ways
He does not see as man;
Within His love I know there's room
For those whom others ban.


I think before His great white throne,
His throne of spotless light,
That whited sepulchres shall wear
The hue of endless night.


That I who fell, and he who sinned,
Shall reap as we have sown;
That each the burden of his loss
Must bear and bear alone.


No golden weights can turn the scale
Of justice in His sight;
And what is wrong in woman's life
In man's cannot be right.



-- -- --




By Harper, Frances Ellen Watkins, 1824-1911.






--> Man

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What Do We Love About Christmas?

What do we love about Christmas;
Does our delight reside in things?
Or are the feelings in our hearts
The real gift that Christmas brings.

It's seeing those we love,
And sending Christmas cards, too,
Appreciating people who bring us joy
Special people just like you.



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs






--> Man

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The Nicest Present

Under the tree the gifts enthrall,
But the nicest present of them all
Is filling our thoughts with those who care,
Wanting our Christmas joy to share.


To you, whom we're often thinking of,
We send our holiday joy and love.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs And Karl Fuchs






--> Man

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Holiday Feasting

Holiday time is for feasting;
We look forward to each treat.
The tables are full of our favorite foods;
We’ve got lots of good things to eat.

We scarf marshmallowed sweet potatoes;
There’s cider and eggnog to slurp.
There’s so much going down at once,
Who can help an occasional burp?

Here’s the turkey, dressing and gravy;
Let’s all get down to chewing it,
And if we pass a little gas,
Who’ll notice? Everyone’s doing it.

Dessert is three kinds of pie;
Then pass the box of candy.
Next year will you please remind us
To have Alka-Seltzer handy!



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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Holidays

That time of year's come 'round again,
So we wish you all the best.
All the joy that comes from knowing you
Makes us feel that we've been blessed.

So we'll share with you our feelings
At this special time of year:
May your holidays be a delight,
Filled with happiness and cheer.

Happy Holidays!



-- -- --




By Joanna And Karl Fuchs





--> Man

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Holiday

The end-of-year holidays are here at last,
That bright, happy time when we have a blast!
Our wish when your new year has finally begun:
That you look back at months full of pleasure and fun.

Happy Holidays!



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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Holiday poetry is usually given to people you care about. This holiday rhyme is designed for that purpose.


Holiday

At this sparkling, joyful time of year,
We think of people who are special and dear;
We’re sending this poem in the hopes it conveys
Our best wishes for your Happy Holidays!



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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Holiday poetry is usually given to people you care about. This holiday rhyme is designed for that purpose.


Holiday



The end of the year brings a special gift:
Three holidays to give our spirits a lift.
Thanksgiving, (Christmas/Hannukah/Other holiday) and New Year’s, too,
May they bring lots of joy and pleasure to you.

Happy Holidays!



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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Holiday



It’s the end of the year, and we’re thinking of you;
We’re searching for words, for the perfect phrase,
To let you know that you’re special to us,
And to wish you and yours Happy Holidays!



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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Two of the most popular Christmas poem searches are Christian Christmas poems and religious Christmas poems. So here are the Christian Christmas poems and prayers.


True Christian Christmas

Christmas isn't showy gifts
Or glittering decoration;
It's honoring our Savior, Jesus Christ
In humble adoration.

It's serving those less fortunate,
Meeting their needs before our own;
It's making sure at Christmas time
That no one is alone.

It's taking what we would have spent
On things that no one needs,
And using it to help someone
With service and good deeds.

Our Savior showed us how to live
With charity, faith and service.
It makes the holidays a joy,
More peaceful, and less nervous.

So let's remember Christmas is
About our Savior's birth;
That's the way to happiness,
The way to peace on earth.


-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

[Man]

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religious Christmas poem like this one gives a different focus to the holiday. This Christian Christmas poem is a recipe for stress relief.


A Different Kind Of Christmas

Sometimes Christmas is just overwhelming, it seems,
As we rush around buying up stuff.
We spend without end, and we rack up those bills,
But it feels like it's never enough.

So this Christmas, let's all take a different approach:
Let's try to be more in accord
With God's Christmas gift, the best one of all--
Our sweet Jesus, our Savior, our Lord.

We'll be gentle and patient, and loving and kind,
And we'll keep our priorities straight;
The gifts of the Spirit, the gifts of the heart
Are the ones that we'll all celebrate.

And our stress will decrease, and we'll feel more at peace,
As we decorate, package, and trim;
Our new Christmas will be a pure joy and delight,
As we try to be much more like Him.


-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

[Man]

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Religious Christmas poems are very popular. This Christian Christmas poem reminds us why we celebrate.


Jesus Is The Reason

In Bethlehem, God gave to us
The source of Christmas joy;
A star shown on a miracle:
The virgin birth of a boy.

He was born both God and man,
A Savior for us all,
The way to get to our heavenly home,
If we just heed His call.

So as we shop and spend and wrap
And enjoy the Christmas season,
Let's keep in mind the sacred truth:
Jesus is the reason.


-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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The Real Reason

It seems like it's party time filling the air;
Special lights bring brightness and glitter;
Christmas carols are sung everywhere;
Stacked presents can make a heart twitter;

But the lights and the trees and the parties
All add and don't take away
From the birth of our Savior, Jesus,
The real reason for this holiday.


-- -- --




By Karl And Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

[Man]

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Christmas Blessing

Dear Lord,
We thank You for being here with us
as we celebrate this cherished holiday
to honor Your precious, sacred birth.
We recognize and acknowledge
that all the material pleasures we enjoy today,
the food, the gifts, and everything else
come from You, Lord,
through your grace, your compassion,
and Your love for us.
Help us throughout the year
to always strive to be worthy
of all the blessings You have given us,
our family, our friends and our comforts,
by living our lives in Your will
according to Your Holy Word.
We pray that You will bless this food
and everyone at this table.
In Jesus' name we pray, Amen.


-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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We Celebrate Your Birth

Dear Lord, as we celebrate Your birth,
let us remember that You are the true reason for Christmas.
Let every sparkling light remind us how You illuminate our lives,
a shining beacon to guide us in our thoughts and actions each day,
and how You light us from within
in the knowledge of Your love and truth.
Let the Christmas trees, standing straight, tall, unbowed,
remind us of Your uprightness, Your goodness, Your perfection,
and Your refusal to bow to worldly temptations,
no matter how great the challenge or trouble.
Lord, as we feast on Christmas treats,
let us remember that You are the sole provider
of everything worth having, that all good things come from You.
And as we enjoy our gifts, let us never forget
that You are the greatest gift of all--our wonderful Savior,
Counselor, Giver of an eternal life whose wonders we cannot imagine.
So as we delight in Christmas, the happiest and brightest of holidays,
let us remember there would be no Christmas without You, Lord,
and let us our hearts be filled with joy, and love
and thankfulness, this Christmas and all the ones to come.
In Jesus' name we pray, Amen.


-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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I’m Happy You’re My Dad


I feel safe when you are with me;
You show me fun things to do;
You make my life much better;
The best father I know is you.


I’m happy you’re my Dad
And so I want to say
I love you, Dad, and wish you
A Happy Father’s Day!


-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

[Man]

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Life Lessons


You may have thought I didn't see,
Or that I hadn't heard,
Life lessons that you taught to me,
But I got every word.


Perhaps you thought I missed it all,
And that we'd grow apart,
But Dad, I picked up everything,
It's written on my heart.


Without you, Dad, I wouldn't be
The (woman)(man) I am today;
You built a strong foundation
No one can take away.


I've grown up with your values,
And I'm very glad I did;
So here's to you, dear father,
From your forever grateful kid.



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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Hero Dad


You are my hero, Dad
You're my secure foundation.
When I think of you, I'm filled with love
And fond appreciation.


You make me feel protected;
I'm sheltered by your care.
You're always my true friend;
When I need you, you're always there.


You have a place of honor
Deep within my heart.
You've been my superhero, Dad,
Right from the very start.



-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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Always There For Your Daughter


Every day the whole year through,
I feel grateful you are my father.
Some fathers don't have time for their kids,
But for you I'm never a bother.


You always make the effort to listen and share;
You're always there when you're needed.
It warms me to know how much you care,
And with that knowledge my worries are defeated.


Dad, you are truly admired and adored,
And as your daughter, I hope that you know,
These sentiments fill me each day of the year,
And my love for you continues to grow.


Happy Fathers Day!


-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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Father poems can review life together. This Father’s Day poem is another poem from daughter to dad. This poem from daughter to dad expresses a lot. A Father's Day poem from his daughter can really touch dad's heart. Attach it to a father gift or put it on a card. Father poetry can strengthen the parent-child bonds.

Everything Dad


A little girl needs her daddy
To love her with manly charm,
To soothe her when she’s hurt,
And keep her safe from harm.


A girl needs her dad
To show her a man who’s good,
To help her make right choices,
As only a father could.


A woman needs her father
Just to be aware,
He’ll always be there for her
To sustain her and to care.


You’ve been all these things, Dad.
I hope that you can see
How much I treasure you;
You mean everything to me.





-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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Father poems don't always have to be from sons and daughters. A poem for dad on Father's Day could be from a wife, for example. Here's a husband Father's Day poem, a Father's Day poem from a wife to the man she married. She could print this love poem out, frame it, and give it as a Father's Day gift.


The Best Man I Ever Knew


When we married, I saw you as perfect,
The ideal husband and more;
I thought I knew all about you,
All the things to love and adore.


But when you became a father,
I saw new qualities to treasure.
You enrich all our lives in fresh ways;
As a dad, you bring so much pleasure.


Our child/children is/are forever blessed
To have a father like you,
And I love you more than ever,
You’re the best man I ever knew.




-- -- --




By Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

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Father poems can talk about Dad's good qualities. This free father poem defines the "perfect father." It also works as a Father's Day poem. Use it in a card or with a gift.


The Perfect Father


I love you because you're my father,
But you're really so much more;
You're a guide and a companion;
You and I have great rapport.


You pay attention to me;
You listen to what I say.
You pass on words of wisdom,
Helping me along the way.


Whenever I'm in trouble,
You always have a plan.
You are the perfect father,
And I'm your biggest fan!



-- -- --




By Karl And Joanna Fuchs





--> Man

[Man]

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Father poems are most often used as fathers day poems. This poem for dad compares him to the sun, shining as a guiding light.


My Father, My Guiding Light


Dad, you’re like the sun to me,
a sure thing, always there,
beaming light and warmth on my life.
Whatever is good in me today,
I owe to your wisdom, your patience,
your strength, your love.
You taught me by example,
as a role model,
how to be my own person,
how to believe in myself,
instructing me without controlling me.
Even when we disagreed,
you held us together,
so our bond was never broken.
I understand what you did for me,
and I am so grateful that I have you
as my solid foundation, my rock.
I respect you, I admire you, I love you,
my guiding light, my father.



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By Joanna Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem





When is Father's Day 2008? Father's Day always falls on the third Sunday in June, so it falls on June 15, 2008.

Most father poems are used for Father's Day. There is huge demand for Father's Day poems for young children to give to their dads. So here's a father poem for those of you who are asking for Father's Day poem for a kid, child Father's Day poem, Father's Day poem from a child, Father's Day poem from a kid, a daddy Father's Day poem or a preschool Father's Day poem.


My Daddy Is The Greatest


My daddy is the greatest;
The best dad there ever was.
He always brings me lots of joy;
He’s my very own Santa Claus.


My daddy can do anything;
He’s smart as smart can be.
I love to walk and hold his hand
To show he belongs to me.


I love my daddy!



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By Karl Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem





Father poems can send loving messages. This father poem lets Dad know how important he is in your life. You could use it as an inspirational Father's Day poem or whenever you want to let Dad know you appreciate him. An I Love You Dad poem is always welcome. Along with your father gift, this will definitely let him know you love him.


Star Dad


I love you, Dad, and want you to know,
I feel your love wherever I go.
Whenever I've problems, you're there to assist,
The ways you have helped me would make quite a list.


Your wisdom and knowledge have shown me the way,
And I'm thankful for you as I live day by day.
I don't tell you enough how important you are,
In my universe you're a bright shining star.


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By Karl Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem





A Real Father


It’s not so common anymore
to have a dad who’s really there,
who is the provider for his family,
who comes home every night,
whose predictability
creates a sense of stability and security
in his household.
Your routine may not seem valuable to you,
but it’s worth a lot to me.
I’m thankful that I can depend on you
to always be you--
a real father,
responsible, trustworthy,
and a great role model.
I’ve learned a lot of good things
from watching you.
Thanks, Dad.


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By Joanna Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem




If Everyone Had a Father Like You


If everyone had a father
Who was more like you,
There'd be more laughing, joy and singing;
Fewer people would be blue.


There'd be much more understanding;
Crime and hate could not prevail.
We'd all be so contented,
We wouldn't need a jail.


If everyone had a father
Who was more like you,
The whole world would be blessed,
Just as I am blessed with you.




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By Karl Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem





First-Class Father


Dad, I'm blessed to be your son
I knew it from the start.
You're a first-class father;
You're loving, kind, and smart.


You show me how to be a man
You help me, guide me, along the way.
You're strong, and yet you're gentle, too.
I hope I'm just like you, someday!



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By Joanna Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem






It’s My Father


Do you know who I want to be like?
It’s not Roosevelt, Reagan or Ike.
It’s my father.


Who taught me to drive and skate?
Who taught me to care and not hate?
It’s my father.


The man I’ll respect till I die,
Who taught me always to try,
It’s my father.


He was never too busy for me;
He’s my ideal man, totally.
My father!


Thanks for being a wonderful father, Dad!





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By Karl Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem






I'd Pick You


Dad, if all the fathers
Had lined up one by one,
And God told me to pick,
I'd still choose to be your son.


I'm proud to have a father
Who listens and understands,
Who teaches me and sets fair rules
Without unfair demands.


Dad you are my hero,
My role model in all you do.
So Dad, if I could pick again,
You know I'd still pick you!





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By Joanna Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem






Terrific Father


You're a dad, and you're doing great;
At fatherly duties you star;
You deserve to celebrate
The terrific father you are.


You're doing a wonderful job,
And so we'd like to convey
Our respect and admiration;
Happy Father's Day!





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By Joanna Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem






Grandfather and Grandpa
Father's Day Poems

Father poems included Father's Day poems for grandfather. This grandfather Father's Day poem details the special things that he gives you.


My Special Joy


A grandfather is a special blessing
enriching the life of a grandchild
with unique and incomparable joys.
Grandpa, you are my special joy.
I get a warm, safe, contented feeling
when I think of you.
With you, I feel no pressure to be
what someone else wants me to be;
you love me enough to let me be me.
You're never in a hurry;
you always take time to listen and to help.
You are always there for me when I need you;
You're never too busy for talks, for walks.
I can count on your wisdom,
your life experience,
your understanding heart
to help me comprehend and get through
challenges you've already faced.
You are part parent, part teacher,
part best friend.
Your strength and your easy, calm confidence
is your legacy to me,
and I love you dearly.


Happy Father's Day, Grandpa!





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By Joanna Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem






Father poems also include Father's Day poem for grandpa from young children. Here's a grandpa Father's Day poem in that category.


Grandpa, You're the One


Grandpa you're the very best;
You're a lot of fun.
When I need someone to care,
Grandpa you're the one.


You're always in a real good mood.
I'm happy when you're with me;
I love you, and I always will,
You're the best grandpa that could be!


Happy Father's Day, Grandpa!




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By Joanna Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem






Poem For A Stepfather or Step Dad

Many people are searching for father poems that are step dad poems. This poem for a stepfather expresses his importance to you.


A Poem for My Stepfather


Although you are my step dad,
You're really so much more;
We get along so well;
We have great rapport.


You always listen to me;
I know you really care;
When I really need you
I know that you'll be there.


I'm learning really good things,
Just by watching you;
Thanks for being my step dad
And for being a good friend, too.




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By Joanna Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem






Father In Law Poem

Father poems include father-in-law poems. This poem for a father in law lets him know you appreciate him.


A Poem for My Father In Law


When I married I got a new father,
A special father in law;
That made me very happy,
And a little bit in awe.


You're a man who cares,
With an understanding heart.
You're also filled with wisdom;
No wonder my spouse is smart!


Thanks for being so cordial;
Thanks for welcoming me;
It feels really good to be part
Of your special family.



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By Joanna Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem






Father Daughter Dance Song


My daddy was my hero
For my very youngest years;
Daddy kept me safe and happy,
And he chased away my fears.
I watched in awe and wonder
At each manly thing he did;
Oh, I looked up to my daddy,
When I was a little kid.


My dad was still my hero,
As the years passed, one by one.
He taught important lessons,
And he took some time for fun.
He was my firm foundation;
On my dad I did depend;
He was always there for me,
My dad, my guide, my friend.


My father is my hero,
Now that I am fully grown.
I love him and respect him,
The best man I've ever known.
I knew when I would marry
That my husband had to be
A great man, just like my father,
Dad, my hero you'll always be.



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By Joanna Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem






Deceased Father Poem

There is a lot of interest in deceased father poems. I want a poem about my fathers death, they say; please write a poem for the loss of a a father. Here it is, and I'm so sorry for your loss.


We Can’t Believe You’re Gone


Dad, our sadness knows no end;
We can’t believe you’re gone;
We’re grieving for you every day;
It’s hard to carry on.


You were always there to support and care,
When we needed a true friend,
How we’ll ever do without our dad,
We cannot comprehend.


You were our teacher and our guide,
Our dad, so good and strong;
Your example will sustain us now,
And last our whole lives long.


We’re trying to communicate;
We hope that you can hear;
Expressing what we feel for you,
Helps us feel you’re near.


Our memories of the times we had
Help the pain to go away.
But Dad, our lives won’t be the same;
We’ll miss you every day.


A part of us went with you;
You left a gap too big to fill;
You’re our father and our hero;
We love you and we always will.





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By Joanna Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem






Father's Day Prayer

Free verse father poems have a variety of applications. Many thousands of people are typing Father's Day Prayer into their search engines, so I wrote this free verse father poem as a father prayer to be used at Father's Day events.


Father’s Day Prayer


Lord, please bless our fathers,
these men who mean so much to us,
who are greatly responsible
for who we are and who we are becoming.
Bless them for having the courage
to do what’s necessary to keep us out of trouble,
for making us do the right thing,
for helping us build our character,
even when it makes us angry;
and bless them for pushing us to do our best,
even when they just want to love us.
Bless our fathers for being our protectors,
for leading us through stormy times to safety,
for making us believe that everything will be all right
and for making it so.
Bless our fathers for quietly making a living
to provide for those they love most,
for giving us food, clothing, shelter
and the other material things that really matter,
for unselfishly investing time and money in us
that they could have spent on themselves.
Bless our fathers, Lord,
for saving some energy for fun,
for leading us on adventures
to explore the outer reaches of ourselves,
for making us laugh,
for being our playmates and our friends.
Bless them for being our secure foundation, our rock,
for holding on tight to us...until it’s time to let us go.
Lord, bless these men we look up to,
our role models, our heroes,
our fathers.
In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.






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By Joanna Fuchs





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[Man]

Poem






Is it dead—Find it


417

Is it dead—Find it—
Out of sound—Out of sight—
"Happy"? Which is wiser—
You, or the Wind?
"Conscious"? Won't you ask that—
Of the low Ground?

"Homesick"? Many met it—
Even through them—This
Cannot testify—
Themself—as dumb—










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By Emily Dickinson





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[Man]

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Is it true, dear Sue?


218

Is it true, dear Sue?
Are there two?
I shouldn't like to come
For fear of joggling Him!
If I could shut him up
In a Coffee Cup,
Or tie him to a pin
Till I got in—
Or make him fast
To "Toby's" fist—
Hist! Whist! I'd come!





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By Emily Dickinson





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[Man]

Poem






It always felt to me—a wrong


597

It always felt to me—a wrong
To that Old Moses—done—
To let him see—the Canaan—
Without the entering—

And tho' in soberer moments—
No Moses there can be
I'm satisfied—the Romance
In point of injury—

Surpasses sharper stated—
Of Stephen—or of Paul—
For these—were only put to death—
While God's adroiter will

On Moses—seemed to fasten
With tantalizing Play
As Boy—should deal with lesser Boy—
To prove ability.

The fault—was doubtless Israel's—
Myself—had banned the Tribes—
And ushered Grand Old Moses
In Pentateuchal Robes

Upon the Broad Possession
'Twas little—But titled Him—to see—
Old Man on Nebo! Late as this—
My justice bleeds—for Thee!





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By Emily Dickinson





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It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon


978

It bloomed and dropt, a Single Noon—
The Flower—distinct and Red—
I, passing, thought another Noon
Another in its stead

Will equal glow, and thought no More
But came another Day
To find the Species disappeared—
The Same Locality—

The Sun in place—no other fraud
On Nature's perfect Sum—
Had I but lingered Yesterday—
Was my retrieveless blame—

Much Flowers of this and further Zones
Have perished in my Hands
For seeking its Resemblance—
But unapproached it stands—

The single Flower of the Earth
That I, in passing by
Unconscious was—Great Nature's Face
Passed infinite by Me—








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By Emily Dickinson





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[Man]

Poem






It can't be


221

It can't be "Summer"!
That—got through!
It's early—yet—for "Spring"!
There's that long town of White—to cross—
Before the Blackbirds sing!
It can't be "Dying"!
It's too Rouge—
The Dead shall go in White—
So Sunset shuts my question down
With Cuffs of Chrysolite!








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By Emily Dickinson





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[Man]

Poem






It can't be "Summer"!


221

It can't be "Summer"!
That—got through!
It's early—yet—for "Spring"!
There's that long town of White—to cross—
Before the Blackbirds sing!
It can't be "Dying"!
It's too Rouge—
The Dead shall go in White—
So Sunset shuts my question down
With Cuffs of Chrysolite!








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By Emily Dickinson





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[Man]

Poem






It ceased to hurt me, though so slow


584

It ceased to hurt me, though so slow
I could not feel the Anguish go—
But only knew by looking back—
That something—had benumbed the Track—

Nor when it altered, I could say,
For I had worn it, every day,
As constant as the Childish frock—
I hung upon the Peg, at night.

But not the Grief—that nestled close
As needles—ladies softly press
To Cushions Cheeks—
To keep their place—

Nor what consoled it, I could trace—
Except, whereas 'twas Wilderness—
It's better—almost Peace—









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By Emily Dickinson





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[Man]

Poem






It did not surprise me


39

It did not surprise me—
So I said—or thought—
She will stir her pinions
And the nest forgot,

Traverse broader forests—
Build in gayer boughs,
Breathe in Ear more modern
God's old fashioned vows—

This was but a Birdling—
What and if it be
One within my bosom
Had departed me?

This was but a story—
What and if indeed
There were just such coffin
In the heart instead?








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By Emily Dickinson





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