Rare People
Those who really care,
Those who stand for right,
Those who carry a light;
Who would give one their
hand,
Who would
understand;
Friendly people
sincere,
Holding the truth
dear.
Most of all having
love
Divine from above.
Having a
feeling heart
Which can love
impart;
Having respect for
all,
Helping those who call,
Ready
to aid anyone,
Denying help to
none;
A trusting heart
within,
caring for all men,
A
faith in mankind,
An agreeable
mind;
An optimistic view,
With
thoughts never blue,
A happy face
ever,
Having hatred
never.
We would less foolish be,
At anger we would smile,
Be happy all the while.
We would
laugh at our fears,
See no need for
our tears,
At envy we would
shrink,
And never hatred
think.
Could we see how we
act,
We might laugh for a
fact,
Though at times we might
cry,
Say, "such a fool was
I".
We
would avoid much woe
If we ourself
could know,
Could see ourself in
time
To not commit a
crime;
Could see into our
mind,
And not go onward
blind,
Could see before too
late,
Would take some time to
wait.
We would more wisely
do,
If we ourself could
view.
Was my mother dear.
far greater love she is due
Than these lines could record here.
When I was sick in
bed
She with love did care,
And
never could it be said
Love for me
she did not bear.
Take my burdens
she would,
Also my sorrow,
Every
woe if she could,
Each heartache she
would borrow.
I did learn from her
To be good and kind.
Kind was she
everywhere,
A better could no one
find.
Never was purer
thought
In any mortal
soul.
Against evil she fought,
And
for the right was her goal.
Her I
first heard pray,
First heard her
cry.
Live as long as long I
may
Glad for my mother am
I.
More than these few lines here.
His love for me he did show,
He was ever a friend dear.
Finer man I never
knew
Than father big and
strong,
And whatever he did
do
Never seemed to me wrong.
No
braver man one could find,
Father was
not afraid.
Once he made up his
mind
With his word ever
stayed.
Was not one to run and
hide,
But father stood his
ground.
In honor he did
abide,
Dignity was in him
found.
Father always taught me
right,
To be honest and fair,
That
for some things I must fight,
And for
the right I should care.
Father
always proudly stood,
He always stood
up high
Like a good man really
should.
Glad for my father am
I.
One can hear it all around,
Sounds of people, wind, and birds,
Sounds of laughter and words;
The sound of the ringing
bell,
And more sounds than I could
tell.
Sound is a world all
right
Almost as great as
sight.
But one sound interests
me,
The last sound, what will it
be?
Maybe the wind in the
trees,
or curtains in the
breeze;
Low voices around the
bed,
Or maybe a prayer
said;
Perhaps an engine
roaring,
Maybe a drill bit
boring.
It might be a dog
barking,
A burning fire
sparking,
Perhaps an airplane
flying,
maybe a baby crying;
A
slight creaking of the floor,
Or
banging of the door,
Or maybe just a
big boom,
And off one goes to the
tomb.
Never remembered again,
As in the forest trees tall
Are forgotten after they fall;
As beautiful flowers
die
Without a trace to the eye,
As
lions in the jungle strong
are dead
and gone before too long;
As the
brightest suns that burn
In time are
darkened in turn,
So all things do
have an end
No matter how their life
they spend.
When the eyes of a child I looked into;
So innocent and fair,
Seeming without a care,
I could not help but stare
In
wonderment at the tender smile
Which
lingered on the little face a
while;
A joy I did not feel
The
little eyes reveal.
Some of it I did
steal.
Looking into the eyes of a
child
I do feel at once as tender and
mild;
For there does lie within
A
pure heart free from sin
In which no
strife has been.
I feel the peace
the eyes contain,
For I believe of
all the child is most sane,
Having
wisdom more
Than learning can
restore.
For good a child
explore.
A child is unto heaven so
near.
A child the truth of the
heavenly sees clear.
What joy it is
to see
The eyes of childlike
glee
So happy just to
be.
In the sunlight glowing,
Flows the little stream along
Singing a merry song.
Most happy it seems to
be
Flowing along so free
On this
springlike kind of day
In the month
of May.
The fairest flowers of
blue,
And some of yellow too
Near
around the stream reside,
Grace the
banks on each side.
The birds
around are singing,
With the
streamlet ringing.
Filled with sound
is the air,
Sound both gentle and
fair.
But the despair I bring.
I see no way but doom,
Uncertainty doth ever loom.
The future I do dread.
My
hope is all but dead.
What darkness
is my fate?
What will be my last
estate?
No bottom has this
pit,
And no light shines within
it.
Eternal is the night,
And lost
is reason or right.
Some see winter in spring.
Some see fond hope ahead,
Some people see despair instead.
Some see evil in
joy.
Some see it right to
destroy.
Some see beauty in a
flower.
Some see awe in a
star.
Some see glory in
pain.
Some see hallucinations in the
brain.
Some see the sky
above.
Some see the world with
love.
Some see life with a
smile.
Some people see the world
worthwhile.
Some see the finer things
of life.
Some see only the
strife.
Some see with their heart
clear.
Some see with prejudice,
hatred, and fear.
Between a weapon and a toy,
Between laughter and tears,
Between hopes and fears.
There is a tender thread
between the good and bad,
Between the
rational and the mad,
Between war and
debate,
Between love and
hate.
There is a tender thread
between desire and lust,
Between a
body and the dust,
Between truth and
lies,
Between yawns and
sighs.
There is a tender thread
between man and the beast,
Between
the greatest and the least,
Between
the black and white,
Between day and
night.
Background For This Page Came From Victorian Elegance.