Friday, November 11, 2011


Once in the dear dead days beyond recall,
When on the world the mists began to fall,
Out of the dreams that rose in happy throng
Low to our hearts Love sang an old sweet song;
And in the dusk where fell the firelight gleam,
Softly it wove itself into our dream.

Just a song a twilight, when the lights are low,
And the flick'ring shadows softly come and go,
Tho' the heart be weary, sad the day and long,
Still to us at twilight comes Love's old song,
comes Love's old sweet song.

Even today we hear Love's song of yore,
Deep in our hearts it dwells forevermore.
Footsteps may falter, weary grow the way,
Still we can hear it at the close of day.
So till the end, when life's dim shadows fall,
Love will be found the sweetest song of all.
Just a song a twilight, when the lights are low,
And the flick'ring shadows softly come and go,
Tho' the heart be weary, sad the day and long,
Still to us at twilight comes Love's old song,
comes Love's old sweet song.

Written By
Music by J.L. Molloy;
Words by G. Clifton Bingham



BACKWARD, turn backward, O time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for tonight
Mother, come back from the echoless shore,
Take me again to your heart as of yore;

Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair;
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;
Rock me to sleep, Mother-rock me to sleep!

Backward, flow backward, oh, tide of the years
I am so weary of toil and of tears;
Toil without recompense, tears all in vain--
Take them, and give me my childhood again!
I have grown weary of dust and decay--
Weary of flinging my soul--wealth away,
Weary of sowing for others to reap;
Rock me to sleep, Mother rock me to sleep!

Tired of the hollow, the base, the untrue,
Mother, O Mother, my heart calls for you!
Many a summer the grass has grown green,
Blossomed and faded, our faces between.
Yet, with strong yearning and passionate pain,
Long I tonight for your presence again.
Come from the silence so long and so deep;
Rock me to sleep, Mother-rock me to sleep!

Over my heart, in the days that are flown,
No love like mother-love ever has shone;
No other worship abides and endures-
Faithful, unselfish, and patient like yours:
None like a mother can charm away pain
From the sick soul and the world-weary brain.
Slumber's soft calms over my heavy lids creep;
Rock me to sleep, Mother-rock me to sleep!
Come, let your brown hair, just lighted with gold,
Fall on your shoulders again as of old;
Let it drop over my forehead tonight,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with it's sunny-edged shadows once more
Haply will throng the sweet vision of yore;
Lovingly, softly, it's bright billows sweep:
Rock me to sleep, Mother-rock me to sleep!

Mother, dear Mother, the years been long
Since I last listened to your lullaby song.
Sing, then, and unto my soul it shall seem
Womanhood's years have been only a dream.

Clasped to your heart in a loving embrace,
With your light lashes just sweeping my face,
Never hereafter to wake or to weep;
Rock me to sleep, Mother-rock me to sleep!

By Elizabeth Akers Allen
Illustration By Mary Cassat

The Land of Make Believe


In the happy land of make believe
All dreams come true they say;
So take me back to that land tonight
As a carefree child at play.

Show me in the land of make believe
The old Pandora box,
Where troubles and cares are put away,
And happiness seals the locks.

Sing me, in the land of make believe
While weary teardrops start,
The childish songs I love to hear
And soothe my aching heart.

-Author Unknown

Little Orphant Annie









INSCRIBED WITH ALL FAITH AND AFFECTION

To all the little children: -- The happy ones; and sad ones;
The sober and the silent ones; the boisterous and glad ones;
The good ones -- Yes, the good ones, too; and all the lovely bad ones
.

LITTLE Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
An' all us other childern, when the supper-things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!


Wunst they wuz a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,--
An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'-wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout:--
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!


An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;
An' wunst, when they was "company," an' ole folks wuz there,
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!


An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--
You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,
An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!


James Whitcomb Riley
Picture Illustrated By Gertrude Elliot

A Soldier's Prayer Veteran's Day 2011




Tall and straight he bore his weapon
With his boots in steady beat,
Stepping proudly with his unit
Down the sunlit city street.
Brave lad chanting with the footsteps,
Neither looking left or right,
Following the Nation's banner
Straight into the endless light.

To a land of strife and battle
Far across the wide blue sea
He has gone to help the people
Who are struggling to be free
In the sultry heat of the swampland
In the insect-ridden mire
He has grown as tough as leather
And his heart is full of fire.

Now he sees his buddies falling
One by one they meet their doom
While the rockets light the Heavens
Sadness shrouds his heart with gloom
Like an old man bent and weary
In the muddy foxhole there
Knelt the lad in the noise of battle
As he offered up a prayer

"Heavenly Father, hear your child;
Why must people suffer so?
I'm so weary of this battle...
Surely Father, you must know
In your gentle way bring comfort
To my buddies lying there,
Ease their pain with all your mercy
This, dear Father is my prayer".

Then he raised his eyes to Heaven
And a teardrop softly fell
As he mourned for all who suffer
In that burning battle hell.
As he rose to struggle onward
Silhouette against the sky,
One lone sniper raised his rifle
And twas heard a pleading cry.

Oh so young to die in battle
Far from loved ones, all alone;
His still face was turned to Heaven
Waiting for his journey home.

-Author Unknown