A Loyal Friend

THE FRIEND WHO JUST STANDS BY,  Unknown

When troubles come your soul to try,

You love the friend who just stands by.

Perhaps there’s nothing he can do,

The thing is strictly up to you.

For there are troubles all your own,

And paths the soul must tread alone.

Times when love can’t smooth the road,

Nor friendship lift the heavy load.

But just to feel you have a friend,

Who will stand by until the end.

Whose sympathy through all endures,

Whose warm handclasp is always yours.

It helps somehow to pull you through,

Although there’s nothing he can do.

And so with fervent heart we cry,

God Bless the friend who just stands by.


Who Wants to Sleep When it’s Summertime?

BED IN SUMMER, By Robert Louis Stevenson

In winter I get up at night

And dress by yellow candle-light.

In summer, quite the other way,

I have to go to bed by day.

 

I have to go to bed and see

The birds still hopping on the tree,

Or hear the grown-up peoples’ feet

Still going past me in the street.

 

And does it not seem hard to you,

When all the sky is clear and blue,

And I should like so much to play,

To have to go to bed by day?

 

An Ocean Escape

Sea Joy, By Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy

When I go down by the sandy shore

I can think of nothing I want more

Than to live by the booming blue sea

As the seagulls flutter round about me

 

I can run about–when the tide is out

With the wind and the sand and the sea all about

And the seagulls are swirling and diving for fish

Oh-to live by the sea is my only wish.

 

An Adventure for Three Ponies

THREE PONIES, By Arthur Guiterman

Three little ponies who didn’t like their hay

Said to each other “Let’s run away!”

Said the first “I will canter!”

Said the second “I will trot!”

Said the third “I will run if it’s not too hot!”

And they all started off

With their tails in the air.

But they couldn’t jump the fence

So they’re all still there.

No Regrets

WOULDA-COULDA-SHOULDA

Shel Silverstein

All the Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas

Layin’ in the sun,

Talkin’ bout the things

They woulda-coulda-shoulda done…

But those Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas

All ran away and hid

From one little DID.

The Little Turtle

The Little Turtle, By Vachel Lindsay

There was a little turtle.

He lived in a box.

He swam in a puddle.

He climbed on the rocks.

 

He snapped at a mosquito.

He snapped at a flea.

He snapped at a minnow.

And he snapped at me.

 

He caught the mosquito.

He caught the flea.

He caught the minnow.

But he didn’t catch me.

 

 

In the Middle Works Great, Too

HALFWAY DOWN, By A.A. Milne

Halfway down the stairs

Is a stair

Where I sit.

There isn’t any

Other Stair

Quite like

It.

I’m not at the bottom,

I’m not at the top;

So this is the stair

Where

I always

Stop.

Halfway up the stairs

Isn’t up,

And it isn’t down.

It isn’t in the nursery,

It isn’t in the town.

And all sorts of  funny thoughts

Run round my head:

“It isn’t really

Anywhere!

It’s somewhere else

Instead!”

 

Happy Saturday to You and Your Kids

SICK, By Shel Silverstein

“I cannot go to school today,” said little Peggy Ann McKay. “I have the measles and the mumps, a gash, a rash and purple bumps. My mouth is wet, my throat is dry, I’m going blind in my right eye. My tonsils are as big as rocks, I’ve counted sixteen chicken pox and there’s one more–that’s seventeen, and don’t you think my face looks green? My leg is cut, my eyes are blue–it might be instamatic flu. I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke, I’m sure that my left leg is broke–

Image credit: <a href='http://www.123rf.com/photo_10243647_mother-taking-her-daughter-s-temperature.html'>wavebreakmediamicro / 123RF Stock Photo</a>

my hip hurts when I move my chin, my belly button’s caving in, my back is wrenched, my ankle’s sprained, my ‘pendix pains each time it rains. My nose is cold, my toes are numb, I have a sliver in my thumb. My neck is stiff, my voice is weak, I hardly whisper when I speak. My tongue is filling up my mouth, I think my hair is falling out. My elbow’s bent, my spine ain’t straight, my temperature is one-o-eight. My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear, there is a hole inside my ear. I have a hangnail, and my heart is–what? What’s that? What’s that you say? You say today is Saturday? G’bye, I’m going out to play!”