Poetry – O TO BE AN OSTRICH

O TO BE AN OSTRICH

The ostrich
like Shakespeare
believes there is nothing
good or bad
but thinking
makes it so.

All problems
he has found
by taking his head
out of the ground
and looking
for them.

The solving
obviously
is a matter of foot
going faster than thought
to avoid
being caught.

Such logic
of conscience
may well be envied—
for who can dispute
what can not be questioned
or proved?

— Elizabeth Bartlett

Poetry – Dandelion

There’s a dandy little fellow,
Who dresses all in yellow,
In yellow with an overcoat of green;
With his hair all crisp and curly,
In the springtime bright and early
A-tripping o’er the meadow he is seen.
Through all the bright June weather,
Like a jolly little tramp,
He wanders o’er the hillside, down the road;
Around his yellow feather,
Thy gypsy fireflies camp;
His companions are the woodlark and the toad.

But at last this little fellow
Doffs his dainty coat of yellow,
And very feebly totters o’er the green;
For he very old is growing
And with hair all white and flowing,
A-nodding in the sunlight he is seen.
Oh, poor dandy, once so spandy,
Golden dancer on the lea!
Older growing, white hair flowing,
Poor little baldhead dandy now is he!

— Nellie M. Garabrant

THE SQUIRREL.

“Squirrel, squirrel, brown and brisk,
High above me in the tree,
I can see you bound and frisk,
I can see you peep at me.

“Squirrel, squirrel, you can play;
Mer-rier beast is none than you;
Yet you are not only gay,
You are wise and mer-ry too.

You can play till summer’s o’er,
And the nuts come falling free,
Then to hoard your winter store
You are busy as a bee.

“Squirrel, squirrel, I would bound
Gai-ly at my sports as you,
And, like you, I would be found
Careful for the future too.”

— anonymous

“HOW IS THE WEATHER?”

Cold winter has come,
And the cruel winds blow—
The trees are all leafless and brown;
These two pretty robins,
Oh, where shall they go
To shelter their little brown heads from the snow?
Just look at the flakes coming down.

But see, they have found a snug shelter at last,
And hark, how they talk, while the storm whistles past:

Says Polly to Dicky,
“You’re nearest the door,
And you are the gentleman, too:
Just peep out and see
When the storm will be o’er;
Be-cause, if the weather’s as bad as before,
I think we will stay, do not you?”

–Anonymous

Poetry – THE BLUEBIRD

I know the song that the bluebird is singing,
Out in the apple-tree where he is swinging;
Brave little fellow, the skies may look dreary;
Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery.

Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat,
Hark! was there ever so merry a note?
Listen awhile and you’ll hear what he’s saying,
Up in the apple-tree swinging and swaying.

“Dear little blossoms down under the snow,
You must be weary of winter, I know;
Hark, while I sing you a message of cheer;
Summer is coming and spring-time is here!

“Little white snowdrop! I pray you arise;
Bright yellow crocus! come, open your eyes;
Sweet little violets, hid from the cold,
Put on your mantles of purple and gold;
Daffodils! daffodils! say, do you hear?—
Summer is coming and spring-time is here!”

–Emily Huntington Miller