The Children
The children bring us laughter, and children being us tears;
They string our joys, like jewels bright, upon the thread of years;
They bring the bitterest cares we know, their mother's sharpest pain,
Then smile our world to lovliness, like sunshine after rain.
The children make us what we are; the childless king is spurned;
The children send us to the hills where glories may be earned;
For them we pledge our lives to strife, for them do mothers fade,
And count in new-born loveliness their sacrifice repaid.
The children bring us back to God; in eyes that dance and shine
Men read from day to day the proof of love and power divine;
For them are fathers brave and good and mothers fair and true,
For them is every cherished dream and every deed we do.
For children are the furnace fires of life kept blazing high;
For children on the battle fields are soldiers pleased to die;
In every place where humans toil; in every dream and plan,
The laughter of the children shapes the destiny of man.
Edgar A. Guest
  
What Are Little Boys Made Of?
What are little boys made of?
What are little boys made of?
Frogs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails,
And that are little boys made of.
What are little girls made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice and all things nice,
And that are little girlds made of.
What are young men made of?
What are young men made of?
Sighs and leers, and crocodile tears,
And that are young men made of.
What are young women made of?
What are young women made of?
Ribbons and laces, and sweet pretty faces,
And that are young women made of.
The Bookworm
Curled up in a chair with a book on his lap,
So quiet, you think he is taking a nap;
Folks look and then smile in a way that is silly,
It looks like him...seems like him...
But, it is not Billy.
Oh, it is a prince who has rescued a princess,
A pirate, a hero, a wonderful cook,
A cowboy, an aviator flying a fortress...
Oh, the imagination of a boy with a book!
Jessie Cannon Eldridge
Mother's Boys
Yes, I know there are stains on my carpet,
The traces of small muddy boots;
And I see your fair tapestry glowing,
All spotless with flowers and fruits.
And I know that my walls are disfigured
With prints of small fingers and hands;
And that your own household most truly
In immaculate purity stands.
And I know that my parlor is littered
With many odd treasures and toys,
While your own is in daintiest order,
Unharmed by the presence of boys.
And I know that my room is invaded
Quite bodly all hours of the day;
While you sit in yours unmolested
And dream the soft quiet away.
Yes, I know there are four little bedsides
Where I must stand watchful each night,
While you may go out in your carriage,
And flash in your dresses so bright.
Now, I think I'm a neat little woman;
And I like my house orderly too;
And I'm fond of all dainty belongings,
Yet I would not change places with you.
No! keep your fair home in its order,
Its freedom from bother and noise;
And keep your own fanciful leisure,
But give me my four splendid boys.
Author Unknown
 Back Next
Return to Reflections
Featured Music: 
"Childs Dream"
Graphic Design by:
|
|