Results for ‘POEMS’
[Welland Tribune September 22, 1905]
What is the little one thinking about?
Very wonderful things, no doubt!
Unwritten history!
Unfathomed mystery!
Yet chuckles and crows and nods and winks,
As if his head were as full of kinks,
And curious riddles as any sphinx!
Warped by colic and wet by tears,
Punctured by pins and tortured by fears
Our little nephew will lose two years;
And he’ll never know
Where the summers go–
He need not laugh. for he’ll find it so.
Who can tell what a baby thinks?
Who can follow the gossamer links
By which the manikin feels his way
Out from the shore of the great unknown
Blind and wailing and alone,
Into the light of day?
Out from the shore of the unknown sea,
Tossing in pitiful agony–
Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls,
Specked with the barks of little souls,
Barks that were launched on the other side,
And slipped from heaven on an ebbing tide!
What does he think of his mother’s eyes?
What does he think of his mother’s hair?
What of the cradle roof that flies
Forward and backward through the air?
What does he think of his mother’s breast,
Bare and beautiful, smooth and white,
Seeking it ever with fresh delight–
Cup of his life and couch of his rest?
What does he think of her quick embrace,
Presses his hand and buries his face
Deep where the heart throbs sink and swell
With a tenderness she can never tell,
Though she murmur the words
Of all the birds–
Words she has learned to murmur well?
Now he thinks he’ll go to sleep!
I can see the shadow creep
Over his eyes in soft eclipse,
Over his brow and over his lips,
Out to his little finger tips!
Softly sinking, down he goes!
Down he goes, down he goes!
See! He is hushed in sweet repose!
–J.G. Holland.
[Welland Tribune August 18, 1905]
Be helpful
Be sociable
Be unselfish
Be generous
Be a good listener
Never worry or whine
Study the art of pleasing
Be frank,open and truthful.
Always be ready to lend a hand.
Be kind and polite to everybody.
Be self-reliant, but not conceited.
Never monopolize the conversation.
Take genuine interest in other people.
Always look on the bright side of things.
Take pains to remember names and faces.
Never criticise or say unkind things of others.
Look for the good in others, not for their faults.
Cultivate health and thus radiate strength and courage.
Forgive and forget injuries, but never forget benefits.
Rejoice as genuinely in another’s success as in your own.
Always be considerate of the rights and feelings of others.
Have a good time, but never let fun degenerate into license.
Learn to control yourself under the most trying circumstances.
Have a kind word, and a cheery encouraging smile for everyone.
Be respectful to women and chivalrous in your attitude toward them.
Meet trouble like a man and cheerfully endure what you can’t cure.
Believe in the brotherhood of man and recognize no class distinctions–
Success
[Welland Tribune August 25, 1905]
The lines were first published in England in 1485 before the discovery of America and before any of the discoveries and inventions mentioned therein. All the events predicted have come to pass except that in the last two lines, in which Mother Shipton, like a good many others, would seem to have made a mistake.
Carriages without horses shall go,
And accidents fill the world with woe;
Around the world thoughts shall fly
In the twinkling of an eye.
Waters shall yet more wonders do.
Now stranger yet shall be true,
The world upside down shall be,
And gold be found at root of tree.
Through hills man shall ride,
And no horse nor ass be at his side.
Under water man shall walk,
Shall ride, shall sleep, shall talk;
In the air men shall be seen,
In white, in black, in green
Iron in the water shall float
As easily as a wooden boat.
Gold shall be found ‘mid stone
In a land that’s now unknown.
Fire and water shall wonders do;
England shall at last admit a Jew,
And the world to an end shall come
In eighteen hundred ad eighty-one.
[Welland Tribune July 11, 1905]
There comes to my mind a legend, a thing I had half forgot,
And whether I read it or dreamed it –ah, well it matters not!
It is said that in heaven at twilight a great bell softly swings,
And man may listen and harken to the wondrous music that rings
If he puts from his heart’s inner chamber all the passion, pain and strife,
Heartache and weary longing, that throb in the pulses of life,
If he thrust from his soul all hatred, all thoughts of wicked things,
He can hear in the holy twilight how the bell of the angels rings;
And I think there lies in this legend, if we open our eyes to see,
Somewhat of an inner meaning, my friend, to you and me.
Let us look in our hearts and question: Can pure thoughts enter in
To a soul if it be already the dwelling of thoughts of sin?
So, then, let us ponder a little—let us look in our hearts and see
If the twilight bell of the angels could ring for us—you and me.
–From Word and Work.
[Welland Tribune September 8, 1905]
I never bought a block of stock,
Supposing it was low,
That didn’t stay upon bedrock
Until I let it go.
If diamonds. Some day from the sky,
Came zipping down like hail,
I know that it would be when I
Was out without a pail
If I should run to catch a train
I’d find as sure as fate,
When I the station steps should gain.
That it-the train-was late.
If I could read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,
I’ll bet you that the taxes there
Would soon be on the rise.
–Chicago Record.
[Welland Tribune July 11, 1905]
Drink less, breathe more,
Talk less, think more.
Ride less, walk more.
Clothe less, bathe more.
Worry less, work more.
Waste less. Give more.
Preach less. Practice more.
–Maryland Baptist
[Welland Tribune September 8, 1905]
Nice men tell no tales.
Flirting is its own reward.
Faint heart never won four ladies
It’s a long head that has no turning.
There is no fool like a summer fool.
The proof of the picnic is the eating.
The summer girl makes cowards of us all
It’s a sea breeze that blows nobody good.
A hand in the hand is worth two in the gloves.
One touch of sunburn makes the whole world skin.
In a multitude of summer girls there is safety.
–Puck.
[Welland Tribune September 1905]
A fair young maiden chose to wed
A man both bent and old;
She did not love his silver hairs,
But loved his yellow gold.
But soon of silks and jewels tired,
And pining to be free,
She wept in silence all day long
Above her ‘broidery.
She left her necklace and rings
Beside her bridal gown,
But took a bag of heavy coin
To weigh her body down.
The moon was shining on the lake,
All black and still it spread–
With scarce a ripple in the reeds
It closed above her head.
But when the summer came again,
From oozy depths below,
Upon a cold and coiling stem
Arose a bud of snow.
Like waxen fingers reaching up
It opened and behold!
Revealed the lily’s creamy heart
Half full of gleaming gold.
–Minna Irving in September Lippincott’s
[Welland Tribune September 8, 1905]
In ancient days we paid our cash
For anything that we might need,
That anyone was rather rash
To buy on credit was agreed.
Who got what he required “on tick.”
The cautious held him under ban,
But now at that we never stick–
It’s all on the instalment plan.
Suburban residences neat
And modern, anyone can get
And have them fitted out complete
From kitchenware to parlor set,
A small deposit’s all required
From any well-conducted man,
So go and pick the home desired–
It’s yours, on the instalment plan.
A diamond engagement ring,
Or knives and forks of triple plate,
A suit of clothes—or anything,
You’ll own them—at some future date,
All that the heart of man can crave
Within his life’s allotted span.
A cradle or a cosy grave,
We buy on the instalment plan.
–Chicago News
[Welland Tribune July 7, 1905]
What wonder that the poets of this prosy age regret
That themes for making posey are now so hard to get.
Those pleasant rural pictures which for years employed the pen
Of poets have been crowded out to never come again.
The weary plowman never ore shall plod his weary way.
He rides a sulky-like affair-a jockey trim and gay.
The sower scattering the seeds afield no more is seen,
For that, like all other work, is done by a machine.
The Scythe the mower used to swing is rusting in the shed.
A hired man now whacks the mules that do the work instead,,
The merry cradlers in the wheat we can no more discern,
The job they had they yielded to a patent right concern.
The joly thrasher, with his flail, upon the old barn floor-
He, too has left the country, for his usefulness is o’er.
With others he was pushed aside and forced to clear the way
For mechanism, dull and dry, that rules the land today.
Since nearly every task is done by steam or horse,
Toil, as a poet’s these, has grown too practical of course.
Wherever we may turn there’s nought but mechanism seen.
And even poetry like this is made by a machine.
-Chicago Mail.
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