September

The breezes taste
Of apple peel.
The air is full
Of smells to feel-
Ripe fruit, old footballs,
Burning brush,
New books, erasers,
Chalk, and such.
The bee, his hive,
Well-honeyed hum,
And Mother cuts
Chrysanthemums.
Like plates washed clean
With suds, the days
Are polished with
A morning haze.

~John Updike

If

We read this famous poem today at the suggestion of our Latin and Greek roots curriculum.  Can you relate to anything here?  I sure can!  It's written for boys, but I've experienced most of these at some point in my life.

My reply to "If" would be, "I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me."  :-)


If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

~Rudyard Kipling

Come Little Leaves

Come, little leaves,
Said the wind one day;
Come over the meadows
With me and play.
Put on your dresses
Of red and gold;
For the days grow short,
And the nights grow cold.

Soon as the leaves
Heard the wind's loud call,
Down they came fluttering,
One and all.
Over the meadows
They danced and flew,
All singing the soft
Little songs they knew.

Dancing and flying,
The leaves went along,
Til Winter called them
To end their sweet song.
Soon, fast asleep
In their earthy beds,
The snow lay a coverlet
O'er their heads.

~George Cooper


My friend posted this poem on a homeschool forum.  Isn't it lovely?

Leisure

What is life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare?

 

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

 

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

 

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

 

. . .

 

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

 

~William H. Davies

A Book

There is no frigate like a book

To take us lands away,

Nor any coursers like a page

Of prancing poetry.

This traverse may the poorest take

Without oppress of toll;

How frugal is the chariot

That bears a human soul!

 

~Emily Dickinson

When Mother Reads Aloud

When Mother reads aloud, the past

Seems real as every day;

I hear the tramp of armies vast,

I see the spears and lances cast,

I join the trilling fray;

Brave knights and ladies fair and proud

I meet when Mother reads aloud.

 

When Mother reads aloud, far lands

Seem very near and true;

I cross the desert's gleaming sands,

Or hunt the jungle's prowling bands,

Or sail the ocean blue.

Far heights, whose peaks the cold mists shroud,

I scale, when Mother reads aloud.

 

When Mother reads aloud, I long

For noble deeds to do --

To help the right, redress the wrong;

It seems so easy to be strong,

So simple to be true.

Oh, thick and fast the visions crowd

My eyes, when Mother reads aloud.

 

~Anonymous