Imagi-Natives: ...for an imaginative life!

[Quote No.52275] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[A story - with a message about the importance of giving time together as well as loving care and education to your children.] - Family Picture - We've had a bad habit for several years, we load the film in the camera, take the pictures, and then put the roll of film in a dresser drawer. Recently, Susan's been taking a few rolls a week to get them developed. We never know what we're going to see when we open the package. It's the closest we get to playing the lottery. The pictures range from snapshots of church functions to pictures of our children when they were tiny, but they do have one thing in common -- Susan isn't in the picture. Why? She's the official family photographer. While thumbing through the pictures, I remembered a story Pastor Dan Rhodes told me last year. Dan is the pastor of two rural churches in Colorado and stays busy. Like most pastors, he has plenty to do, but by being the pastor of two churches, he has twice the committee meetings, and twice the worship services. As Dan tells the story, his daughter's third grade teacher requested a parent teacher conference with him. His wife usually took care of those conferences, but the teacher wanted to see him, not his wife. At her insistence, he made an appointment to drop by the school in the afternoon. 'I wanted you to see this drawing your daughter made of your family.' She said. Dan looked at the drawing and asked, 'Where am I?' 'That's why I called you down here today, I asked your daughter the same question and she said you're never home so she left you out of the picture.' A Mike Tyson punch couldn't hurt any more than her words. Dan made some radical changes in his behavior and found that he could do his job and be a good father. Are you in the picture with your family? Or are you too busy?" - Dr. James L. Wilson

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[Quote No.52276] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[A story - with a message about the importance of giving time together as well as loving care and education to your children.] - Only One Childhood - I stopped to watch my little girl busy playing in her room. In one hand was a plastic phone; in the other a toy broom. I listened as she was speaking to her make believe little friend And I'll never forget the words she said, even though it was pretend. She said, ‘Suzie's in the corner cuz she's not been very good. She didn't listen to a word I said or do the things she should.’ In the corner I saw her baby doll all dressed in lace and pink. It was obvious she'd been put there to sit alone and think. My daughter continued her ‘conversation,’ as I sat down on the floor. She said, ‘I'm all fed up, I just don't know what to do with her anymore? She whines whenever I have to work and wants to play games, too. She never lets me do the things that I just have to do? She tries to help me with the dishes, but her arms just cannot reach... And she doesn't know how to fold towels. I don't have the time to teach. I have a lot of work to do and a big house to keep clean. I don't have the time to sit and play -- don't you know what I mean?’ And that day I thought a lot about making some changes in my life; As I listened to her innocent words that cut me like a knife. I hadn't been paying enough attention to what I hold most dear. I'd been caught up in responsibilities that increased throughout the year. But now my attitude has changed, because, in my heart, I realize... I've seen the world in a different light through my little darling's eyes. So, let the cobwebs have the corners and the dust-bunnies rule the floor, I'm not going to worry about keeping up with them anymore. I'm going to fill the house with memories of a child and her mother... For we are granted only one childhood, and we will never get another." - Unknown

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[Quote No.52277] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[A true story - with a message for parents about finding the right balance between their children's needs and desires and their own.] - Remember, We're Raising Children, Not Flowers! - David, my next-door neighbor, has two young kids ages five and seven. One day he was teaching his seven-year-old son Kelly how to push the gas-powered lawn mower around the yard. As he was teaching him how to turn the mower around at the end of the lawn, his wife, Jan, called to him to ask a question. As David turned to answer the question, Kelly pushed the lawn mower right through the flower bed at the edge of the lawn - leaving a two-foot wide path levelled to the ground! When David turned back around and saw what had happened, he began to lose control. David had put a lot of time and effort into making those flower beds the envy of the neighborhood. As he began to raise his voice to his son, Jan walked quickly over to him, put her hand on his shoulder and said, ‘David, please remember, we're raising children, not flowers!’ Jan reminded me how important it is as a parent to remember our priorities. Kids and their self-esteem are more important than any physical object they might break or destroy. The window pane shattered by a baseball, a lamp knocked over by a careless child, or a plate dropped in the kitchen are already broken. The flowers are already dead. I must remember not to add to the destruction by breaking a child's spirit and deadening his sense of liveliness." - Jack Canfield
'A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul'
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[Quote No.52365] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[A true story - with a message about setting an example for our children.] - Butch and Eddie - Part 1 - Butch: World War II produced many heroes. One such man was Butch O'Hare. He was a fighter pilot assigned to an aircraft carrier in the South Pacific. One day his entire squadron was sent on a mission. After he was airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that someone had forgotten to top off his fuel tank. He would not have enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his ship. His flight leader told him to return to the carrier. Reluctantly he dropped out of formation and headed back to the fleet. As he was returning to the mothership, he saw something that turned his blood cold. A squadron of Japanese Zeroes were speeding their way toward the American fleet. The American fighters were gone on a sortie and the fleet was all but defenseless. He couldn't reach his squadron and bring them back in time to save the fleet. Nor, could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger. There was only one thing to do. He must somehow divert them from the fleet. Laying aside all thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the formation of Japanese planes. Wing-mounted 50 caliber's blazed as he charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane and then another. Butch weaved in and out of the now broken formation and fired at as many planes as possible until finally all his ammunition was spent. Undaunted, he continued the assault. He dove at the Zeroes, trying to at least clip off a wing or tail, in hopes of damaging as many enemy planes as possible and rendering them unfit to fly. He was desperate to do anything he could to keep them from reaching the American ships. Finally, the exasperated Japanese squadron took off in another direction. Deeply relieved, Butch O'Hare and his tattered fighter limped back to the carrier. Upon arrival he reported in and related the event surrounding his return. The film from the camera mounted on his plane told the tale. It showed the extent of Butch's daring attempt to protect his fleet. He was recognized as a hero and given one of the nation's highest military honors. And today, O'Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute to the courage of this great man. Part 2 - Eddie: Some years earlier there was a man in Chicago called Easy Eddie. At that time, Al Capone virtually owned the city. Capone wasn't famous for anything heroic. His exploits were anything but praiseworthy. He was, however, notorious for enmeshing the city of Chicago in everything from bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder. Easy Eddie was Capone's lawyer and for a good reason. He was very good! In fact, his skill at legal maneuvering kept Big Al out of jail for a long time. To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well. Not only was the money big; Eddie got special dividends. For instance, he and his family occupied a fenced-in mansion with live-in help and all of the conveniences of the day. The estate was so large that it filled an entire Chicago city block. Yes, Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave little consideration to the atrocity that went on around him. Eddy did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he loved dearly. Eddy saw to it that his young son had the best of everything; clothes, cars, and a good education. Nothing was withheld. Price was no object. And, despite his involvement with organized crime, Eddie even tried to teach him right from wrong. Yes, Eddie tried to teach his son to rise above his own sordid life. He wanted him to be a better man than he was. Yet, with all his wealth and influence, there were two things that Eddie couldn't give his son. Two things that Eddie sacrificed to the Capone mob that he could not pass on to his beloved son: a good name and a good example. One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. Offering his son a good name was far more important than all the riches he could lavish on him. He had to rectify all the wrong that he had done. He would go to the authorities and tell the truth about Scar-face Al Capone. He would try to clean up his tarnished name and offer his son some semblance of integrity. To do this he must testify against The Mob, and he knew that the cost would be great. But more than anything, he wanted to be an example to his son. He wanted to do his best to make restoration and hopefully have a good name to leave his son. So, he testified. Within the year, Easy Eddie's life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a lonely Chicago street. He had given his son the greatest gift he had to offer at the greatest price he would ever pay. I know what you're thinking. What do these two stories have to do with one another? Well, you see, Butch O'Hare was Easy Eddie's son." - Unknown

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[Quote No.52366] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[A true story - with a message about the joy of parenting children as they learn and grow up.] - Kid's Eye View of Fatherhood - As the mother of four and a journalist who collects funny kid stories, I am convinced that it's not a father's words but the words of his children that define what it is to be a father. Fatherhood is a two-way street. (When I first typed that I made a typographical error and it came out two-say street. How true!) Fatherhood is not just the father talking to and guiding his children. It's his children turning to him with questions, comments, observations, tears, fears and laughter. It's not about going to Disney World. It's about sharing your world. Fatherhood is about strength (in the child's eyes), learning, doing, honesty, being comfortable and setting an example. It's about doing ordinary things in an extraordinary way... in your child's eyes. Young children have complete confidence in their father: --- When asked who was going to help Superman fight the bad guys, a 2-year-old from Minnesota said, ‘Daddy!’ --- When a Florida mother told her son she didn't have the money to buy a toy he wanted, the little boy, whose father made drawings as a surveyor, said, ‘Well, why doesn't dad just draw more money?’ --- Seeing his older siblings fly their kites, a 2-year-old carefully spread his kite on the ground, sat on it and said, ‘OK, Daddy, I ready go for ride!’ But coupled with that confidence in father's abilities are frank observations about father's weaknesses. For example: --- A 6-year-old said, ‘When Daddy takes a short cut, it always turns into a long cut.’ --- When a Chicago father was having trouble fixing his daughter's hair, she said, ‘That's okay. He's just a daddy. He'll be a mom someday.’ --- When an Arkansas father was stopped for speeding in his shiny new Mustang his 5-year-old son leaned over and exclaimed, ‘But officer my daddy always drives fast in the Mustang!’ Many very young children assume that as they become older their parents are becoming younger. I've received a number of stories similar to the one about Kyle, 4, who was told that when he grows up he would be 6 feet, 2 inches like his father. Kyle replied, ‘And Daddy will be small like me!’ Perhaps that view represents wishful thinking, such as when Jayden, 3, told his father, ‘When I get older I'm gonna be a daddy. That way when you yell at me, I can yell back!’ Then there are the wonderful stories about fathers and children working and having fun together - whether it's making breakfast, going to the barber, fishing, golfing, tackling homework, taking a walk, gardening or doing any of the 100 other things that define fatherhood. I like the story about the little boy in Florida who was allowed to slice hard-boiled eggs for his father when they were making breakfast. When the boy cut into the first egg he said with amazement, ‘I didn't know there was cheese inside eggs!’ Or the 5-year-old who was gardening with his father and spilled Miracle Gro on his finger. ‘Is my hand going to get bigger?’ he asked. An Indianapolis father wrote to me about when he took his 2-year-old for a walk and she saw a dead, dried up worm. The little girl squatted down and said, ‘That worm needs some exercise!’ Tom from Okinawa, Japan e-mailed me about when took his 4-year-old to see the airplanes at the Air Force base where he is stationed. When an airplane took off, Tom said, ‘Honey, that's the sound of freedom.’ A few days later Tom and Catie were outside when a plane flew overhead. Catie said, ‘Daddy, I like airplanes, but freedom sure is loud!’ How do you define fatherhood? These last two stories say it all: --- Mitch, 4, sternly warned his dad, ‘You better watch everything you say, 'cause someday I'm gonna talk just like you!’ --- Or, as another pre-schooler put it, ‘I'm just a chip off the old pot!’" - Grace Witwer Housholder

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[Quote No.52367] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[A true story - with a message about the joy of parenting.] - Taking Out the Trash - What are Dads for? According to at least one respondent in a recent not-so-scientific survey, they exist for one reason and one reason only: ‘To take out the trash.’ Of course, other respondents -- children in our neighborhood ranging in age from 3 to 11 years old -- had different ideas when the question was posed as part of a Father's Day project for our church congregation. Michael says we have Dads ‘so they can play with us.’ Kelsey is much more pragmatic. She says we have Dads ‘to go to work and get money for us.’ Ashley thinks Dads are there ‘so you can ask them questions,’ and Colby says we have them ‘to help us when we have problems.’ But I sort of like Kyle's answer. He says that ‘Dads are for being nice.’ I'm glad that's true for Kyle. I wish it were true for all children -- especially mine. The children also had different ideas about what their Dads do all day. McKenzie's Dad ‘works and golfs.’ Nathan's Dad ‘plays with toys at work.’ Levi's Dad ‘gets paged.’ And Auraleigh's Dad ‘goes to work where he eats all day and looks around for his wife’ (I've got to talk to Raleigh -- Auraleigh's Dad -- about where to apply for that job.) Asked ‘What is your Dad's favorite thing to do?’ most of the children responded with play: basketball, four-wheeling, golf, water skiing, hunting and fishing. Watching sports on TV was also big, as was fixing cars. Jordan's Dad ‘likes to play around with reptiles’ (remind me to stay away from the Price residence.) But Leah seemed the happiest to report that her Dad ‘really likes to go outside with me and play games with me.’ Lucky Leah! Lucky Leah's Dad! Some of the most interesting responses came when the children were asked ‘How will your Dad change once he turns 60?’ (I guess 60 is the generic age for Really, Really, Way, Way Old, although I must tell you that the closer I get to 60, the less Really Way Old it seems.) ‘His hair will be a little gray,’ said McKenna. ‘He might have a beard,’ said Nathan. ‘He will get kinda saggy on his face like all grandpas do,’ said Justin. ‘I think he'll get more serious and might slow down,’ said Rochelle. ‘He won't be as hyper,’ said Michael. ‘He will be like ... confused,’ said Jonathan. Uh, that was from Jonathan Walker. My son. And I'm already confused. The question ‘What does your Dad say all the time?’ was pretty revealing about family dynamics. Lots of Dads were quoted for those quickie commands we all use from time to time: ‘Put your shoes on!’ ‘Roll up the Nintendo controls!’ ‘Go to your room!’ On the other hand, Frankie remembers his Dad saying, ‘A job worth doing is worth doing well.’ Justin's Dad says, ‘You're great, Just!’ Adam's Dad says, ‘You know what I like about you? Everything!’ And Chandler's Dad says, ‘I'm really proud of you.’ Wouldn't it be great if all our kids remembered ‘I'm proud of you’ more than ‘Let me just say one more thing’ -- the best-remembered fatherly phrase of the Walker children. Reading the survey, unscientific though it may have been, I learned a few things. I learned that there are different kinds of Dads who impact their children's lives in different ways. I learned that it's the simple, common, ordinary things that seem to have the most impact (there wasn't a single reference to fancy houses, expensive cars or costly trips.) And I learned that God gave us Dads to ‘love us’ (Kyle), ‘take care of us’ (Allyson), ‘protect us’ (Madison) and ‘to walk us across the roads’ (Tanner). With or without the trash." - Joseph Walker

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[Quote No.52368] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[A story - with a message about the value of example and saving.] - The Pickle Jar - The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar. As they were dropped into the jar, they landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled. I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank. Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck. Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. ‘Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back.’ Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly. ‘These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me.’ We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. ‘When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again.’ He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. ‘You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,’ he said. ‘But you'll get there. I'll see to that.’ The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed. A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith. The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done. When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me. No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar. To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me. ‘When you finish college, Son,’ he told me, his eyes glistening, You'll never have to eat beans again . . . unless you want to.’" - Unknown

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[Quote No.52447] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem:]

'I don’t want to go to School Mum'

I don’t want to go to school Mum
I want to stay at home with my duck.
I’d rather stay home with you Mum,
And hit the skirting board with my truck.
Don’t make me go to school today Mum,
I’ll sit here quite on the stairs
Or I’ll sit underneath the table
Scratching all the varnish of the chairs.

I don’t want to go to school Mum,
When I could be underneath your feet.
It’s shopping day and we could go together
Taking twice as long to get to Regent Street.
And every time you stop to talk to someone
I won’t let you concentrate, no fear,
I’ll be jumping up and down beside you
Shouting ‘Can I have some sweets Mum?’ in your ear.

Or how about me doing a bit of painting?
Or what about a bit of cutting out?
Or sitting in the open bedroom window
Body in and legs sticking out?
Or what about us going up the park Mum?
Or how about me sitting in the sink?
Or what about me making you a cake Mum?
And Mum. Hey Mum. Mum can I have a drink?

Mum what’s that at the bottom of the cupboard?
And Mum, what’s that bad you put down there?
And hey Mum watch me jump straight off the sofa,
And Mum, whose dog is that stood over there?
What you doing Mum? Peeling potatoes?
Sit me on the drainer watching you
I wouldn’t mind me trousers getting wet Mum,
Oh I aren’t half fed up. What can I do?

What time is Daddy coming home Mum?
What’s in that long packet? Sausage Meat?
How long is it before he comes Mum?
And Mum. Hey Mum. What can I have to eat?
Oh sorry Mum! I’ve upset me Ribena.
Oh look! It’s making quite a little pool.
Hey Mum, hey, where we going in such a hurry?
Oh Mum! Hey Mum, you’re taking me to SCHOOL!

" - Pam Ayres
[downloaded from http://traciness.wordpress.com/2011/07/12/i-dont-want-to-go-to-school-mum-by-pam-ayres/ ]
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[Quote No.52459] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem:]

'Television'

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

" - Roald Dahl

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[Quote No.52516] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about the many unnoticed and unthanked acts of service that parents do that demonstrate true, caring love.]

'Those Winter Sundays'

Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he’d call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?

" - Robert Hayden
(1913–1980). Quoted from Collected Poems of Robert Hayden, edited by Frederick Glaysher. Copyright ©1966 by Robert Hayden.
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[Quote No.52564] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about early childhood.]

'Learning'

I'm learning to say thank you.
And I'm learning to say please.
And I'm learning to use Kleenex,
Not my sweater, when I sneeze.
And I'm learning not to dribble.
And I'm learning not to slurp.
And I'm learning (though it sometimes really hurts me)
Not to burp.
And I'm learning to chew softer
When I eat corn on the cob.
And I'm learning that it's much
Much easier to be a slob.

" - Judith Viorst
She is the author of several works of fiction and non-fiction for children as well as adults.
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[Quote No.52567] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem:]

'Child! Do not throw this book about!'

Child! Do not throw this book about!
Refrain from the unholy pleasure
Of cutting all its pictures out!
Preserve it as your chiefest treasure!

" - Hilaire Belloc
Poet
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[Quote No.52568] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about one of the rewards for virtue, doing all the right things he could, working dilligently, being respectful and pleasant - and being lucky.]

'Charles Augustus Fortescue, Who always Did What Was Right, And So Accumulated An Immense Fortune.'

The nicest child I ever knew
Was Charles Augustus Fortescue.
He never lost his cap, or tore
His stockings or his pinafore:
In eating bread he made no crumbs,
He was extremely fond of sums.
And as for finding mutton-fat
Unappetising, far from that!
He often, at his father's board,
Would beg them, of his own accord,
To give him, if they did not mind,
The greasiest morsels they could find -

His later years did not belie
The promise of his infancy.
In public Life he always tried
To take a judgment broad and wide;
In private, none was more than he
Renowned for quiet courtesy.
He rose at once in his career,
And long before his fortieth year
Had wedded Fifi, only child
Of Bunyan, First Lord Aberfylde.
He thus became immensely rich
And built a splendid mansion which
Is called 'The Cedars, Muswell Hill',
Where he resides in affluence still
To show what everybody might
Become by - simply doing right.

" - Hilaire Belloc
(1870 - 1953), (Joseph) Hilaire Belloc. From 'Cautionary Tales', published 1907.
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[Quote No.52594] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: with some advice for people, in particular a son.]

'A Father To His Son'

A father sees his son nearing manhood.
What shall he tell that son?
'Life is hard; be steel; be a rock.'
And this might stand him for the storms
and serve him for humdrum monotony
and guide him among sudden betrayals
and tighten him for slack moments.
'Life is a soft loam; be gentle; go easy.'
And this too might serve him.
Brutes have been gentled where lashes failed.
The growth of a frail flower in a path up
has sometimes shattered and split a rock.
A tough will counts. So does desire.
So does a rich soft wanting.
Without rich wanting nothing arrives.
Tell him too much money has killed men
and left them dead years before burial:
the quest of lucre beyond a few easy needs
has twisted good enough men
sometimes into dry thwarted worms.
Tell him time as a stuff can be wasted.
Tell him to be a fool every so often
and to have no shame over having been a fool
yet learning something out of every folly
hoping to repeat none of the cheap follies
thus arriving at intimate understanding
of a world numbering many fools.
Tell him to be alone often and get at himself
and above all tell himself no lies about himself
whatever the white lies and protective fronts
he may use against other people.
Tell him solitude is creative if he is strong
and the final decisions are made in silent rooms.
Tell him to be different from other people
if it comes natural and easy being different.
Let him have lazy days seeking his deeper motives.
Let him seek deep for where he is born natural.
Then he may understand Shakespeare
and the Wright brothers, Pasteur, Pavlov,
Michael Faraday and free imaginations
Bringing changes into a world resenting change.
He will be lonely enough
to have time for the work
he knows as his own.

" - Carl Sandberg
(1878 – 1967), American writer and editor best known for poetry. He won three Pulitzer Prizes, two for his poetry and one for his biography of Abraham Lincoln.
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[Quote No.52600] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: giving advice about raising children.]

'Childhood'

Childhood, sweet and sunny childhood,
With its careless, thoughtless air,
Like the verdant, tangled wildwood,
Wants the training hand of care.
See it springing all around us —
Glad to know, and quick to learn;
Asking questions that confound us;
Teaching lessons in its turn.
Who loves not its joyous revel,
Leaping lightly on the lawn,
Up the knoll, along the level,
Free and graceful as a fawn?
Let it revel; it is nature
Giving to the little dears
Strength of limb, and healthful features,
For the toil of coming years.
He who checks a child with terror,
Stops its play, and stills its song,
Not alone commits an error,
But a great and moral wrong.
Give it play, and never fear it —
Active life is no defect;
Never, never break its spirit —
Curb it only to direct.
Would you dam the flowing river,
Thinking it would cease to flow?
Onward it must go forever —
Better teach it where to go.
Childhood is a fountain welling,
Trace its channel in the sand,
And its currents, spreading, swelling,
Will revive the withered land.
Childhood is the vernal season;
Trim and train the tender shoot;
Love is to the coming reason,
As the blossom to the fruit.
Tender twigs are bent and folded —
Art to nature beauty lends;
Childhood easily is moulded;
Manhood breaks, but seldom bends.

" - David Bates
(1809 – 1870), American poet.
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[Quote No.52603] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem:- about good leadership of children and adults.]

'Chiding'

Reproach will seldom mend the young,
If they are left to need it;
The breath of love must stir the tongue,
If you would have them heed it.
How oft we see a child caressed
For little faults and failings,
Which should have been at first suppressed
To save the after railings!
If, when the heart would go astray,
You would the passion smother,
You must not tear the charm away,
But substitute another.
Thus it is pleasant to be led,
If he who leads will measure
The heart's affection by the head,
And make pursuit a pleasure.

" - David Bates
(1809 – 1870), American poet.
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[Quote No.52646] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about fathers.]

'Only a Dad'

Only a dad, with a tired face,
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame,
To show how well he has played the game,
But glad in his heart that his own rejoice
To see him come, and to hear his voice.

Only a dad, with a brood of four,
One of ten million men or more.
Plodding along in the daily strife,
Bearing the whips and the scorns of life,
With never a whimper of pain or hate,
For the sake of those who at home await.

Only a dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever may come his way,
Silent, whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.

Only a dad, but he gives his all
To smooth the way for his children small,
Doing, with courage stern and grim,
The deeds that his father did for him.
This is the line that for him I pen,
Only a dad, but the best of men.

" - Edgar Albert Guest
(1881–1959), prolific English-born American poet who was popular in the first half of the 20th century and became known as the People's Poet.
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[Quote No.52677] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem:]

'Mother's Day'

Gentle hands that never weary toiling in love's vineyard sweet,
Eyes that seem forever cheery when our eyes they chance to meet,
Tender, patient, brave, devoted, this is always mother's way,
Could her worth in gold be quoted as you think of her to-day?

There shall never be another quite so tender, quite so kind
As the patient little mother; nowhere on this earth you'll find
Her affection duplicated; none so proud if you are fine.
Could her worth be overstated? Not by any words of mine.

Death stood near the hour she bore us, agony was hers to know,
Yet she bravely faced it for us, smiling in her time of woe;
Down the years how oft we've tried her, often selfish, heedless, blind,
Yet with love alone to guide her she was never once unkind.

Vain are all our tributes to her if in words alone they dwell.
We must live the praises due her; there's no other way to tell
Gentle mother that we love her. Would you say, as you recall
All the patient service of her, you've been worthy of it all?

" - Edgar Albert Guest

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[Quote No.52693] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about the virtue of thinking ahead about the future consequences of your present choices in order to make good decisions and be happy now and later in life.]

'The Old Man's Comforts and How He Gained Them'

You are old, Father William, the young man cried,
The few locks which are left you are grey;
You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man,
Now tell me the reason I pray.

In the days of my youth, Father William replied,
I remember'd that youth would fly fast,
And abused not my health and my vigour at first
That I never might need them at last.

You are old, Father William, the young man cried,
And pleasures with youth pass away,
And yet you lament not the days that are gone,
Now tell me the reason I pray.

In the days of my youth, Father William replied,
I remember'd that youth could not last;
I thought of the future whatever I did,
That I never might grieve for the past.

...

" - Robert Southey
(1774 - 1843), English poet of the Romantic school, one of the so-called 'Lake Poets', and Poet Laureate for 30 years from 1813 to his death in 1843.
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[Quote No.52723] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem:]

'Remembrance of Christmas Past

They let the children out of school too early.
I left the Christmas shopping till too late.
Each day we had a holiday excursion,
Which gave us the entire week to wait in line for
Movies by Disney,
Gift-wrapping by Lord & Taylor,
And everyone's restrooms.

On Christmas Eve we started to assemble
The easy-to-assemble telescope
And fire truck with forty-seven pieces.
By midnight it was plain there was no hope without
An astronomer,
A mechanical engineer,
And two psychiatrists.

We rose at dawn to three boys singing Rudolph.
We listened numbly to their shouts of glee.
The kitten threw up tinsel on the carpet.
The fire truck collided with the tree, requiring

One rug shampoo,
Several Band-aids,
And Scotch before breakfast.

I bought my husband shirts - wrong size, wrong colors,
And ties he said he couldn't be caught dead in.
I'd hinted Saint Laurent or something furry.
He bought me flannel gowns to go to bed in, also
A Teflon frying pan,
A plaid valise,
And The Weight Watchers Cook Book.

The turkey was still frozen at eleven.
At noon my eldest boy spilled Elmer's glue.
At five I had a swell Excedrin headache,
The kind that lasts till January two...but
Merry Christmas
And Happy New Year,
I think.

" - Judith Viorst
She is the author of several works of fiction and non-fiction for children as well as adults.
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[Quote No.52726] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about advice to his daughter to be virtuous and kind.]

'A Farewell'

My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe in skies so dull and gray;
Yet, if you will, one quiet hint I'll leave you,
For every day.

I'll tell you how to sing a clearer carol
Than lark who hails the dawn or breezy down
To earn yourself a purer poet's laurel
Than Shakespeare's crown.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who can be clever;
Do lovely things, not dream them, all day long;
And so make Life, and Death, and that For Ever,
One grand sweet song.

" - Charles Kingsley
(1819 – 1875) Church of England priest, university professor, historian and novelist.
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[Quote No.52738] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem:-]

'The Giving Tree'

Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree....
very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, ‘Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy.’
‘I am too big to climb and play’ said
the boy.
‘I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money?’
‘I'm sorry,’ said the tree, ‘but I
have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in
the city. Then you will have money and
you will be happy.’
And so the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy. But the boy stayed away for a long time....
and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook with joy
and she said, ‘Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy.’
‘I am too busy to climb trees,’ said the boy.
‘I want a house to keep me warm,’ he said.
‘I want a wife and I want children,
and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house?’
‘I have no house,’ said the tree.
‘The forest is my house,
but you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy.’

And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
‘Come, Boy,’ she whispered,
‘come and play.’
‘I am too old and sad to play,’
said the boy.
‘I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?’
‘Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,’ said the tree.
‘Then you can sail away...
and be happy.’
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.

And after a long time
the boy came back again.
‘I am sorry, Boy,’
said the tree,’ but I have nothing
left to give you -
My apples are gone.’
‘My teeth are too weak
for apples,’ said the boy.
‘My branches are gone,’
said the tree. ‘You
cannot swing on them - ‘
‘I am too old to swing
on branches,’ said the boy.
‘My trunk is gone,‘ said the tree.
‘You cannot climb - ‘
‘I am too tired to climb’ said the boy.
‘I am sorry,’ sighed the tree.
‘I wish that I could give you something....
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry....’
‘I don't need very much now,’ said the boy.
‘just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.’
‘Well,’ said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
‘well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.

" - Shel Silverstein
(1930 - 1999), Sheldon Allan 'Shel' Silverstein was an American poet, singer-songwriter, cartoonist, screenwriter, and author of children's books.
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[Quote No.52739] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem:]

'Listen to the MUSTN’TS'

Listen to the MUSTN’TS, child,
Listen to the DON’TS
Listen to the SHOULDN’TS
The IMPOSSIBLES, the WON’TS
Listen to the NEVER HAVES
Then listen close to me -
Anything can happen, child,
ANYTHING can be.

" - Shel Silverstein
(1930 - 1999), Sheldon Allan 'Shel' Silverstein was an American poet, singer-songwriter, cartoonist, screenwriter, and author of children's books.
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[Quote No.52807] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about being an example and a role-model]

'The Little Chap Who Follows Me'

A careful man I ought to be,
A little fellow follows me,
I do not dare to go astray
For fear he'll go the selfsame way.

I cannot once escape his eyes,
Whate'er he sees me do, he tries;
Like me, he says, he's going to be,
The little chap who follows me.

He thinks that I am good and fine,
Believes in every word of mine
The base in me he must not see,
The little chap who follows me.

I must remember as I go,
Through summer's fun and winter's snow,
In building for the years to be
The little chap who follows me!

" - Unknown

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[Quote No.52834] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem:]

'Mother's Hands'

Dear gentle hands have stroked my hair
And cooled my brow,
Soft hands that pressed me close
And seemed to know somehow
Those fleeting moods and erring thoughts
That cloud my day,
Which quickly melt beneath their suffrage
And pass away.

No other balm for earthly pain
Is half so sure,
No sweet caress so filled with love
Nor half so pure,
No other soul so close akin that understands,
No touch that brings such perfect peace as Mother's hands.

" - W. Dayton Wedgefarth

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[Quote No.52873] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem:]

'Be Kind'

Be kind to thy father - for when thou wert young,
Who loved thee so fondly as he?
He caught the first accents that fell from thy tongue,
And joined in thine innocent glee.

Be kind to thy mother - for lo! on her brow
May traces of sorrow be seen,
O, well may'st thou cherish and comfort her now,
For loving and kind hath she been.

Be kind to thy brother - wherever you are,
The love of a brother shall be
An ornament, purer and richer by far
Than pearls from the depths of the sea.

Be kind to thy sister - not many may know
The depth of true sisterly love;
The wealth of the ocean lies fathoms below
The surface that sparkles above.

Thy kindness shall bring to thee many sweet hours,
and blessing thy pathway to crown;
Affection shall weave thee a garland of flowers,
More precious than wealth or renown.

" - Margaret Courtney
(1822-1862)
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[Quote No.52957] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem:]

'For My Mother'

My mother kept a garden,
A garden of the heart.
She planted all the good things
That gave my life its start.

She turned me to the sunshine
And encouraged me to dream.
Fostering and nurturing
The seeds of self-esteem...

And when the winds and rain came,
She protected me enough -
But not too much -
She knew I'd need to stand up strong and tough.

Her constant good example
Always taught me right from wrong -
Markers for my pathway
That will last a lifetime long.

I am my mother's garden.
I am her legacy -
And I hope today she feels the love
Reflected back from me.

" - Unknown

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[Quote No.53094] Need Area: Friends > Children
"...the love of a child is more to be valued than fortune or fame. " - Mary Mae Oesch

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[Quote No.53096] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about the joy, consolation and solace of a child's unconditional love for their parent - in this case a son for his dad]

'The Little Child's Faith'

It's a comfort to me in life's battle,
When the conflict seems all going wrong,
When I seem to lose every ambition
And the current of life grows too strong,
To think that the dusk ends the warfare,
That the worry is done for the night;
And the little child there, at the window,
Believes that his daddy's all right.

In the heat of the day and the hurry,
I'm prompted so often to pause,
While my mind strays away from the striving,
Away from the noise and applause.
The cheers may be meant for some other;
Perhaps I have lost in the fight;
But the little child waits at the window,
Believing his daddy's all right.

I can laugh at the downfalls and failure;
I can smile in the trial and pain;
I can feel that in spite of the errors,
The struggle has not been in vain.
If Fortune will only retain me
That comfort and solace at night,
When the little child waits at the window,
Believing his daddy's all right.

" - Louis Edwin Thayer
(1877 - 1956), He was a reporter in the USA for the Hartford Courant and established the Torrington Daily Leader in 1901. [refer http://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=66562242 ]
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[Quote No.53133] Need Area: Friends > Children
"I've learned that if you want to do something positive for your children, work to improve your marriage. " - Unknown

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[Quote No.53146] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about the joy and benefits of reading to your child]

'The Reading Mother'

I had a mother who read to me
Sagas of pirates who scoured the sea,
Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth,
'Blackbirds' stowed in the hold beneath.

I had a Mother who read me lays
Of ancient and gallant and golden days;
Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe,
Which every boy has a right to know.

I had a Mother who read me tales
Of Gelert the hound of the hills of Wales,
True to his trust till his tragic death,
Faithfulness blent with his final breath.

I had a Mother who read me the things
That wholesome life to the boy heart brings --
Stories that stir with an upward touch,
Oh, that each mother of boys were such!

You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be --
I had a Mother who read to me.

" - Strickland Gillilan
(1869–1954) American poet and humorist.
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[Quote No.53179] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about the beauty of caring, unconditional love]

'The Mother in the House'

For such as you, I do believe,
Spirits their softest carpets weave,
And spread them out with gracious hand
Wherever you walk, wherever you stand.

For such as you, of scent and dew
Spirits their rarest nectar brew,
And where you sit and where you sup
Pour beauty's elixir in your cup.

For all day long, like other folk,
You bear the burden, wear the yoke,
And yet when I look into your eyes at eve
You are lovelier than ever, I do believe.

" - Hermann Hagedorn
(1882 – 1964) American author, poet and biographer.
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[Quote No.53186] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about the power of example and demonstration and being a role model.]

'Show Me'

I would rather see a Mason, than hear one any day,
I would rather one would walk with me than merely show the way.
The eye's a better pupil and more willing than the ear,
Fine counsel is confusing, but example's always clear.
And the best of all the Masons are the men who live their creeds,
For to see the good in action is what everybody needs.

I can soon learn how to do it if you'll let me see it done,
I can watch your hands in action, but your tongue too fast may run.
And the lectures you deliver may be wise and true,
But I'd rather get my lesson by observing what you do.
For I may misunderstand you and the high advice you give,
But there's no misunderstanding how you act and how you live.

" - Edgar Albert Guest

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[Quote No.53189] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about childhood toys and mess]

'Patty-Poem'

She never puts her toys away;
Just leaves them scattered where they lay -
I try to scold her, and I say
'You make me mad!'
But when to bed she has to chase,
The toys she left about the place
Remind me of her shining face,
And make me glad.
When she grows up and gathers poise
I’ll miss her harum-scarum noise,
And look in vain for scattered toys –
And I’ll be sad.

" - Nick Kenny
(1895 - 1975) American syndicated newspaper columnist, song lyricist and poet who wrote light verse similar to that of Edgar Albert Guest.
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[Quote No.53239] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem:- about the value of a sense of humor, trying not to take anything especially ourselves too seriously and trying to see the unexpected, surprising, silly and funny side of things and ourselves and letting yourself and others smile, joke and laugh easily and often!]

'Sense Of Humour'

What it is, can't just say,
Only know it saved the day,
Drove the gathering clouds away.
Just a twinkle in the eye,
Just a smile instead of sigh;
Lo! the storm soon passed right by
— all through a sense of humour.

What it is, don't just know,
But it made rich laughter flow,
Life took on a rosy glow:
Troubles shrank to half their size;
Sorrow wore a cheerful guise;
Work appeared to be the prize
— all through a sense of humour.

Things were going very wrong,
Flowers no colour, birds no song;
Weakness ousted courage strong
— stepped in a sense of humour:
Put the balance right again,
Saved two people lots of pain,
Brought the sunshine after Rain
— and that's a sense of humour.

" - Wilhelmina Stitch
(1888-1936) Wilhelmina Stich is the pseudonym of Ruth Jacobs Cohen Collie. She was a writer, lecturer and poet - called 'The Poem A Day Lady'. Born at Cambridgeshire, England in 1888, daughter of I. W. Jacobs, she married E. Arakie Cohen while he was visiting England and returned with him to Winnipeg, the capital and largest city of the province of Manitoba, Canada. They had one son, Ralph. After her husband’s death in 1919, she was forced to seek employment to support herself and her son. Her friends encouraged her to submit her writing for publication, which led to a successful career as a writer which continued to the time of her death. Writing under the pen names 'Sheila Rand' or 'Wilhelmina Stitch', she had poetry and stories published in the Winnipeg Tribune and the Winnipeg Telegram. In time, she became, in the words an obituary, 'one of the best-known women writers in the British Empire'. She later remarried to Scottish physician Frank K. Collie and moved with him to London, England where she died on 6 March 1936. [refer http://www.mhs.mb.ca/docs/people/collie_rjc.shtml and http://content.lib.sfu.ca/cdm/ref/collection/ceww/id/254 ]
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[Quote No.53295] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about living up to the ideals our mothers teach us about ethics, morality, reciprocity and love's 'Golden Rule' of treating others as we would like to be treated in their situation and therefore libertarian's dictum 'Only voluntary: so Informed Choice - No Force and No Fraud']

'If I Only Was the Fellow'

While walking down a crowded
City street the other day,
I heard a little urchin
To a comrade turn and say,
‘Say, Chimmey, lemme tell youse,
I’d be happy as a clam
If only I was de feller dat
Me mudder t’inks I am.’

‘She t’inks I am a wonder,
An’ she knows her little lad
Could never mix wit’ nuttin’
Dat was ugly, mean or bad.
Oh, lot o’ times I sit and t’ink
How nice, ’twould be, gee whiz!
If a feller was de feller
Dat his mudder t’inks he is.’

My friends, be yours a life of toil
Or undiluted joy,
You can learn a wholesome lesson
From that small, untutored boy.
Don’t aim to be an earthly saint
With eyes fixed on a star:
Just try to be the fellow that
Your mother thinks you are.

" - Will S. Adkin

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[Quote No.53315] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[When you put your children to bed, say good-night and settle them for sleep, besides just chatting to them about their day and the future, it is fun to read a little bit to develop their interest in language, literature and reading. But don't just read stories. You can have great fun reading and reciting, even acting out, poems. Children love the rhythm, rhyme and repetition of poetry:] My parents read me one poem a night every night since I was 4 until I could recite them all. I would like to do the same for my children." - Olivia
Reviewer of the book, 'Great Short Poems' (Dover Thrift Editions) Paperback – February 18, 2000 by Paul Negri (Editor). [http://www.amazon.com/Great-Short-Poems-Thrift-Editions/dp/0486411052/ref=pd_sim_b_5/191-1814092-0745359?ie=UTF8&refRID=0Q32XV0CT70EX47XVKN8 ]
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[Quote No.53331] Need Area: Friends > Children
"You know that the beginning is the most important part of any work, especially in the case of a young and tender thing; for that is the time at which the character is being formed and the desired impression is more readily taken....Shall we just carelessly allow children to hear any casual tales which may be devised by casual persons, and to receive into their minds ideas for the most part the very opposite of those which we should wish them to have when they are grown up? We cannot....Anything received into the mind at that age is likely to become indelible and unalterable; and therefore it is most important that the tales which the young first hear should be models of virtuous thoughts.... [by, for example]...let us pass a leisure hour in storytelling, and our story shall be the education of our heroes. ...[In order to do this, regularly, perhaps when doing the weekly grocery shopping, go to the library and together choose books of stories, fairy-tales, fables, poems that will imprint the values that will best serve them and their community in the future. So when you read to them at night before bed or they read for pleasure from these books, etc they are being exposed to ideas which will guide them to become the best they can be.]" - Plato
Famous Greek philosopher. From his book, 'The Republic'.
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[Quote No.53345] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about a mother's love and kindness using the metaphor of a garden with flowers representing different people she cares for and nurtures.]

'My Mother's Garden'

Her heart is like her garden,
Old-fashioned, quaint and sweet,
With here a wealth of blossoms,
And there a still retreat.
Sweet violets are hiding,
We know as we pass by,
And lilies, pure as angel thoughts,
Are opening somewhere nigh.

Forget-me-nots there linger,
To full perfection brought,
And there bloom purple pansies
In many a tender thought.
There love's own roses blossom,
As from enchanted ground,
And lavish perfume exquisite
The whole glad year around.

And in that quiet garden --
The garden of her heart --
Songbirds are always singing
Their songs of cheer apart.
And from it floats forever,
O'ercoming sin and strife,
Sweet as the breath of roses blown,
The fragrance of her life.

" - Alice E. Allen
(1857 - 1927) American poet
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[Quote No.53346] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about the comforting memory of a mother's unconditional love to her child in later life]

'Rock Me to Sleep'

Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night!
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, O 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 to-night 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 o'er 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 to-night,
Shading my faint eyes away from the light;
For with its sunny-edged shadows once more
Haply will throng the sweet visions of yore;
Lovingly, softly, its bright billows sweep; -
Rock me to sleep, mother, - rock me to sleep!

Mother, dear mother, the years have been long
Since I last listened 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!

" - Elizabeth Akers Allen
(1832 - 1911) American author, journalist and poet.
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[Quote No.53403] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about making the most of every situation by being grateful and happy that things aren't worse. It seems especially appropriate for children.]

'Suppose'

Suppose, my little lady,
Your doll should break her head,
Could you make it whole by crying
Till your eyes and nose are red?
And wouldn’t it be pleasanter
To treat it as a joke;
And say you’re glad ''T was Dolly’s
And not your head that broke?'

...

Suppose that some boys have a horse,
And some a coach and pair,
Will it tire you less while walking
To say, 'It isn’t fair?'
And wouldn’t it be nobler
To keep your temper sweet,
And in your heart be thankful
You can walk upon your feet?

And suppose the world don’t please you,
Nor the way some people do,
Do you think the whole creation
Will be altered just for you?
And isn’t it, my boy or girl,
The wisest, bravest plan,
Whatever comes, or doesn’t come,
To do the best you can?

" - Phoebe Cary
(1824–1871) American poet and the younger sister of poet Alice Cary (1820–1871). The sisters co-published poems in 1849, and then each went on to publish volumes of her own. After their deaths in 1871, joint anthologies of the sisters' unpublished poems were also compiled.
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[Quote No.53462] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about the innocent dreams and impatient yearnings of youth]

'Day Dreams, Or Ten Years Old'

I measured myself by the wall in the garden;
The hollyhocks blossomed far over my head.
Oh, when I can touch with the tips of my fingers
The highest green bud, with its lining of red,

I shall not be a child any more, but a woman.
Dear hollyhock blossoms, how glad I shall be!
I wish they would hurry -- the years that are coming,
And bring the bright days that I dream of to me!

Oh, when I am grown, I shall know all my lessons,
There's so much to learn when one's only just ten! --
I shall be very rich, very handsome, and stately,
And good, too, -- of course, -- 'twill be easier then!

There'll be many to love me, and nothing to vex me,
No knots in my sewing; no crusts to my bread.
My days will go by like the days in a story,
The sweetest and gladdest that ever was read.

And then I shall come out some day to the garden
(For this little corner must always be mine);
I shall wear a white gown all embroidered with silver,
That trails in the grass with a rustle and shine.

And, meeting some child here at play in the sunshine,
With gracious hands laid on her head, I shall say,
'I measured myself by these hollyhock blossoms
When I was no taller than you, dear, one day!'

She will smile in my face as I stoop low to kiss her,
And ---- Hark! they are calling me in to my tea!
O blossoms, I wish that the slow years would hurry!
When, when will they bring all I dream of to me?

" - Margaret Johnson
19th Century poet
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[Quote No.53472] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about education - prevention being better than cure]

'The Ambulance Down in the Valley'

...

Better guide well the young than reclaim them when old,
For the voice of true wisdom is calling.
'To rescue the fallen is good, but 'tis best
To prevent other people from falling.'
Better close up the source of temptation and crime
Than deliver from dungeon or galley;
Better put a strong fence 'round the top of the cliff
Than an ambulance down in the valley.

" - Joseph Malins
(1844-1926) temperance activist. The poem was first published in 1895.
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[Quote No.53475] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about learning life-skills:-]

...
Ere I am old, O! let me give,
My life to learning how to live
...

" - Caroline Atherton Briggs Mason
(1823 – 1890) American poet. Quote from her poem, 'When I Am Old'. [ere = before]
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[Quote No.53484] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about passing on responsibilities and challenges to those that follow, like a ball has to be passed backwards in the game of Rugby! Other examples might include business succession, cultural legacy, private inheritance, etc.]

'Vitai Lampada' ('They Pass On The Torch of Life')

There's a breathless hush in the Close to-night --
Ten to make and the match to win --
A bumping pitch and a blinding light,
An hour to play and the last man in.
And it's not for the sake of a ribboned coat,
Or the selfish hope of a season's fame,
But his Captain's hand on his shoulder smote --
'Play up! play up! and play the game!'

The sand of the desert is sodden red, --
Red with the wreck of a square that broke; --
The Gatling's jammed and the Colonel dead,
And the regiment blind with dust and smoke.
The river of death has brimmed his banks,
And England's far, and Honour a name,
But the voice of a schoolboy rallies the ranks:
'Play up! play up! and play the game!'

This is the word that year by year,
While in her place the School is set,
Every one of her sons must hear,
And none that hears it dare forget.
This they all with a joyful mind
Bear through life like a torch in flame,
And falling fling to the host behind --
'Play up! play up! and play the game!'

" - Sir Henry Newbolt
(1862-1938) English poet, novelist and historian. He also had a very powerful role as a government adviser, particularly on Irish issues and with regard to the study of English in England.
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[Quote No.53490] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Parents - fathers and mothers - are hopefully inspirational, role models:] That's all a man can hope for during his lifetime to set an example and when he is dead, to be an inspiration for history." - William McKinley
(1843 – 1901) 25th President of the United States, serving from March 4, 1897, until his assassination on September 14, 1901, six months into his second term. McKinley led the nation to victory in the Spanish-American War, raised protective tariffs to promote American industry, and maintained the nation on the gold standard in a rejection of inflationary proposals.
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[Quote No.53530] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about her mother in particular and parents in general - what they do for us when we are young and helpless and what we should do for them in return when they are old and infirm.]

'My Mother'

Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.

When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.

Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.

And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?

Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward they care,
My Mother.

When thou art feeble, old and grey,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My Mother.

" - Ann Taylor
(1782 - 1866) English poet, hymn writer and children's author.
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[Quote No.53533] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about the joy of parenthood, in this case a father anticipating his son]

'To My Unborn Son'

'My son!' What simple, beautiful words!
'My boy!' What a wonderful phrase!
We're counting the months till you come to us -
The months, and the weeks, and the days!

'The new little stranger,' some babes are called,
But that's not what you're going to be;
With double my Virtues and half of my faults,
You can't be a stranger to me!

Your mother is straight as a sapling plant,
The cleanest and best of her clan -
You're bone of her bone, and flesh of her flesh,
And, by heaven, we'll make you a man!

Soon I shall take you in two strong arms -
You that shall howl for joy -
With a simple, passionate, wonderful pride
Because you are just - my boy!

And you shall lie in your mother's arms,
And croon at your mother's breast,
And I shall thank God I am there to shield
The two that I love the best.

A wonderful thing is a breaking wave,
And sweet is the scent of spring,
But the silent voice of an unborn babe
Is God's most beautiful thing.

We're listening now to that silent voice
And waiting, your mother and I -
Waiting to welcome the fruit of our love
When you come to us by and by.

We're hungry to show you a wonderful world
With wonderful things to be done,
We're aching to give you the best of us both
And we're lonely for you - my son!

" - Captain Cyril Morton Thorne

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[Quote No.53560] Need Area: Friends > Children
"[Poem: about the dangers of creating a person who rushes through life]

'Making A Man'

Hurry the baby as fast as you can,
Hurry him, worry him, make him a man.
Off with his baby clothes, get him in pants,
Feed him on brain foods and make him advance.
Hustle him, soon as he's able to walk,
Into a grammar school; cram him with talk.
Fill his poor head full of figures and facts,
Keep on a-jamming them in till it cracks.
Once boys grew up at a rational rate,
Now we develop a man while you wait,
Rush him through college, compel him to grab
Of every known subject a dip and a dab.
Get him in business and after the cash,
All by the time he can grow a moustache.
Let him forget he was ever a boy,
Make gold his god and its jingle his joy.
Keep him a-hustling and clear out of breath,
Until he wins -- nervous prostration and death.

" - Nixon Waterman
(1859 - 1944) American newspaper writer, poet and Chautauqua lecturer, who rose to prominence in the 1890s.
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