Inpsyte

My Favorite Poems Updated 01/15/02

To A Friend

You entered my life in a casual way,

And saw at a glance what I needed;

There were others who passed me or met me each day,

But never a one of them heeded.

Perhaps you were thinking of other folks more,

Or chance simply seemed to decree it;

I know there were many such chances before,

But the others - well, they didn't see it.

You said just the things that I wished you would say,

And you made me believe that you meant it;

I held up my head in the old gallant way,

And resolved you should never repent it.

There are times when encouragement means such a lot,

And a word is enough to convey it;

There were others who could have, as easy as not-

But, just the same, they didn't say it.

There may have been someone who could have done more

To help me along, though I doubt it;

What Indeeded was cheering, and always before

They had let me plod onward without it.

You helped to refashion the dream of my heart,

And made me turn eagerly to it;

There were others who might have (I question that part) -

But, after all, they didn't do it!

Grace Stricker Dawson

Grief I TELL you, hopeless grief is passionless; That only men incredulous of despair, Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air Beat upward to God's throne in loud access Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness, In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death-- Most like a monumental statue set In everlasting watch and moveless woe Till itself crumble to the dust beneath. Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet: If it could weep, it could arise and go. Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Forget Thee? "Forget thee?" If to dream by night and muse on thee by day, If all the worship deep and wild a poet's heart can pay, If prayers in absence breathed for thee to Heaven's protecting power, If winged thoughts that flit to thee - a thousand in an hour - If busy fancy blending thee with all my future lot - If this thou call'st "forgetting", though, indeed, shalt be forgot! "Forget thee?" Bid the forest-birds forget their sweetest tune; "Forget thee?" Bid the sea forget to swell beneath the moon,, Thyself forget thine own "dear land", and its "mountains wild and blue." Forget each old familiar face, each long-remember'd spot - When these things are forgot by thee, then thou shalt be forgot! Keep, if thou wilt, thy maiden peace, still calm and fancy-free, For God forbid thy gladsome heart should grow less glad for me; Yet, while that heart is still unwon, oh! bid not mine to rove, but let it nurse it's humble faith and uncomplaining love: Forget me then; but ne'er believe that thou canst be forgot!

John Moultrie

You and I My hand is lonely for your clasping, dear; My ear is tired waiting for your call. I want your strength to help, your laugh to cheer; Heart, soul and senses need you, one and all. I droop without your full, frank sympathy; We ought to be together - you and I; We want each other so, to comprehend The dream, the hope, things planned, or seen, or wrought. Companion, comforter and guide and friend, As much as love asks love, does thought ask thought, Life is so short, so fast the lone hours fly, We ought to be together, you and I. Henry Alford

Will you love Me when I'm Old?

I would ask you, my darling,

A question soft and low,

That gives me many a heartache

As the moments come and go.

Your love I know is truthful,

But the truest love grows cold;

It is this that I would ask you:

Will you love me when I'm old?

Life's morn will soon be waning,

And it's evening bells be tolled,

But my heart shall know no sadness,

If you'll love me when I'm old.

Down the stream of life together

We are sailing side by side,

Hoping some bright day to anchor

Safe beyond the surging tide.

Today our sky is cloudless,

But the night may clouds unfold;

But, though storms may gather round us,

Will you love me when I'm old?

When my hair shall shade the snowdrift,

And mine eyes shall dimmer grow,

I would lean upon some loved one,

Through the valley as I go.

I would claim of you a promise,

Worth to me a world of gold;

It is only this, my darling,

That you'll love me when I'm old.

Unknown

The Sin of Omission It isn't the things you do, dear, It's the things you leave undone That gives you a bit of a heartache At setting of the sun. The letter you did not write, The flowers you did not send, dear, Are your haunting ghosts at night. The stone you might have lifted Out of a brother's way, The bit of heartsome counsel You were hurried to much to say The loving touch of the hand, dear, The gentle, winning tone Which you had not time nor thought for With troubles enough of your own. Those litte acts of kindness So easily out of mind Those chances to be angels Which we poor mortals find- They come in night and silence, Each sad, reproachful wraith When hope is faint and flagging And a chill has fallen on faith For life is all to short, dear, And sorrow is all to great, To suffer our slow compassion That tarries until too late; And it isn't the thing you do, dear, It's the thing you leave undone Which gives you a bit of a heartache At the setting of the sun." Margaret E. Sangster

A Wise Old Owl

A poem told to me by my grandfather, Pop, who was dearly beloved The wise old owl sat in an oak, The more he saw the less he spoke; The less he spoke the more he heard; Why can't we be like that wise old bird?

Along the Road

I walked a mile with Pleasure, She chattered all the way, But left me none the wiser For all she had to say. I walked mile with Sorrow And ne'er a word said she; But oh, the things I learned from her When Sorrow walked with me! Robert Browning Hamilton My Wage I bargained with Life for a penny And Life would pay no more, However I begged in the evening, When I counted my scanty store. For Life is a just employer, He gives you what you ask. But once you have set the wages, Why, you must then bear the task. I worked for a menial's hire, Only to learn, dismayed, That any wage I had asked of Life, Life in turn would pay. James B. Rittenhouser Vases Two vases stood on the Shelf of Life As Love came by to look, One was of priceless cloisonne, The other of solid common clay. Which do you think Love took? He took them both from the Shelf of Life, He took them both with a smile; He clasped them both with his finger tips, And touched them both with caressing lips, And held them both for a while. From tired hands Love let them fall, And never a word was spoken. One was of priceless cloisonne, The other of solid common clay. Which do you think was broken? Nan Terrell Reed The Watered Lilies The Master stood in His garden, Among the lilies fair, Which His own right hand had planted, And trained with tend'rest care. He looked at their snowy blossoms, And marked with observant eye That the flowers were sadly drooping, For their leaves were parched and dry. "My lilies need to be watered," The Heavenly Master said; "Wherein shall I draw it for them, And raise each drooping head?" Close to his feet on the pathway, Empty, and frail, and small, An earthen vessel was lying, Which seemed no use at all; But the Master saw, and raised it From the dust in which it lay, And smiled, as He gently whispered, "This shall do My work today." "It is but an 'earthen' vessel, But it lay so close to Me; It is small, but it is empty- That is all it needs to be." So to the fountain He took it, And filled it full to the brim; How glad was the earthen vessel To be of some use to Him! He poured forth the living water Over His lilies fair, Until the vessel was empty, And again He filled it there. He watered the drooping lilies Until they revived again; And the Master saw with pleasure. That His labor had not been vain. His own hand had drawn the water Which refreshed the thristy flowers; But He used the earthen vessel To convey the living showers. And to itself it whispered, As He laid it aside once more, "Still will I lie in His pathway, Just where I did before. "Close would I keep to the Master, Empty would I remain, And perhaps some day He may use me To water His flowers again."

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