TRIBUTE

These are poems I collected because of their special meanings. I dedicate these to the people who have affected my life in a way or another.

A TRIBUTE …for mothers far and wide…

HER WORDS
(Anna Hempstead Branch)

My mother has the prettiest tricks
Of words and words and words.
Her talk comes out as smooth and sleek
As breasts of singing birds.

She shapes her speech all silver fine
Because she loves it so;
And her own eyes begin to shine
To hear her story grow.

And if she goes to make a call
Or out to take a walk,
We leave our work when she returns
And run to her talk.

We had not dreamed these things were so
Of sorrow and of mirth.
Her speech is a thousand eyes
Through which we see the earth.

God wove a web of loveliness,
Of clouds and stars and birds,
But made not anything at all
So beautiful as words.

They shine around our simple earth
With golden shadowings,
And every common thing they touch
Is exquisite with wings.

There’s nothing poor and nothing small
But it is made for them.
They are the hands of living faith
That touch the garment’s hem.

They are as fair as bloom or air,
They shine like any star,
And I am rich who learned from her
How beautiful they are.



…for all the little children, listen!

BETWEEN TWO ANGELS
(Unknown)

There stood in a garden, a child sweet and fair,
Watching some fruit that hang ripening there.
Two anxious angels were watching above:
One gazing in hatred, the other in love;
One clothed in black, the other in white.

The child never dreamed that the angels were there.
He just longed for the fruit so rich and so rare.
How I should like the big apple so red,
But I cannot forget what my dear mother said
That doing the things I’m forbidden to do
Would make me unhappy and grieve her heart, too.

“ Take it,” the dark angel whispered, “ and eat it.
it is not very often you get such a treat.
There is no one to see you and no one to tell.”
So up went a hand, it could reach the fruit well.

But the child paused a moment and said as he smiled,
“I’ll not be a thief, I’ll be a good child.
The rustling sound stirred the soft summer air.
One angel was gone but the other was still there.

The angel of darkness had taken its flight.
The child was alone with the angel of light.
In this little story we plainly see,
An everyday lesson for you and me:
We can conquer temptations––the angel of night,
If we listen to conscience––the angel of light!


…for our energetic little brothers, big men in small packages…

A BOY’S DREAM
(R.M. Cayari)

When I grow up I’d like to be
A brave, strong rover out at sea,
A-sailing on the ocean tide
To see the big world far and wide.

But then I also wish to fly
A whizzing jet plane in the sky;
I’d make a loop and zoom and dash,
And come to land without a crash.

Oh! How many things I’d want to do!
Like building houses big and new;
How very happy I would feel,
If I could build a bridge of steel.

I’ll try to do these if I can
When I’ve become a full-grown man.


…and lastly, for our fathers, who toiled from dawn ‘til dusk or dusk ‘til dawn.

MY CREED
(Howard Arnold Walter)

I would be true,
for there are those who trust me;
I would be pure,
for there are those who care;
I would be strong,
for there is much to suffer;
I would be brave
for there is much to dare.

I would be friend
of all –– the foe, the friendless;
I would be giving
and forget the gift,
I would be humble
For I know my weaknesses;
I would look up ––
and laugh, and love, and lift.