Poem Page 2
 

     
           

 

Asleep

by Emily Dickinson

As far from pity as complaint,

As cool to speech as stone,

As numb to revelation

As if my trade were bone.

As far from time

as history,

As near yourself to-day

As children to the rainbow's scarf,

Or sunset's yellow play

To eyelids in the sepulchre.

How still the dancer lies

While color's revelations break,

And blaze the butterflies!

 

 

 

Good Timber

Anon 

The man who never had to toil,

Who never had to win his share

Of sun and sky and light and air,

Never became a manly man

But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow in ease;

The stronger the wind,

the tougher the trees;

The farther the sky,

the greater the length;

The more the storm,

the more the strength;

By sun and cold, by rain and snows,

In tree and man, good timber grows.

 

 

 

 

What Is It To Die 

By Kahil Gibran

 

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind

and to melt into the sun?

And what is it to cease breathing,

but to free the breath from its restless tides,

that it may rise and expand

and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you drink from the river of silence

shall you indeed sing.

And when you reach the mountain top,

then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs,

then shall you truly dance.

         

 

If You Should Forget Me

For A While,

By Christina Rossetti

 If you should forget me for a while,

And afterwards remember,

do not grieve,

For if the darkness and the shadows

Leave a vestige of the thoughts

hat once I had,

Better by far that you should forget

and smile

Than that you should remember

and be sad.

 

 

 

A Fisherman’s Prayer

 Anon

I pray that I may live to fish.......

Until my dying day.

And when it comes to my last cast,

I then most humbly pray:

When in the Lord's great landing net

And peacefully asleep

That in His mercy I be judged

Big enough to keep.

 
 

The Garden at Dusk

Anon 

In the cool of a garden when evening draws in

Serenity waits where the shadows begin.

In the fragrance of dusk and

the murmur of clover

The cares that we carry pass peacefully over.

 

Flowers in their fullness shed blessing about

And the turmoil of living fades quietly out.

Hope glimmers through with the evening star

And anxieties shrink to the size that they are.