Sharing

Sharing

Ah, you will take the high path,
And I will take the low,
Thus missing none of beauty
As thro' this life we go.

And you will watch a white cloud,
And I will watch a star,
To find alluring jewels
That are hidden near or far.

Ah, we will watch for loveliness
And see the glorious Spring
Salute the year whose beauty is
An anthem that we sing.

Ah, you will watch the sunset
And I the clouds so fair,
Thus double joys will greet us
As we kneel to God in prayer.

You will look for birds and trees
While I will look for flowers,
And in the glowering twilight
We will share the happy hours.

~ Ursula Miller

From my mother's poetry notebook

My Paradise

My Paradise

The Gate to Yesterday swings wide,
And bids us seek the countryside,
Far from the throngs of human-tide,
Where memories of youth abide.

A peaceful paradise you'll find
In wood or field, to soothe the mind.
Just leave the busy streets behind,
And roam with me where lone trails wind.

To find this wild and carefree place,
The narrow trail you need but trace
Through forest aisles and open space
Beyond the city's great white ways.

You'll see the giant forest trees
And other glories such as these.
You'll listen to the whispering breeze,
Which worries hastily appease.

Forget the technics of a creed,
The strife for glory and for speed.
With nature filling every need,
Man rises over selfish greed.

Wild Paradise has mountain streams
Whose tumbling crystal water seems
To come from shadow land of dreams
Up where the snowy glacier gleams.

So come with me along the trail,
O'er rocky steep and down the vale,
We'll hear the calling of the quail,
And watch the rambling of the rail.

Our paradise will reach the sea,
Where billows heave eternally,
And ocean winds come ceaselessly
Across the waves so wild and free.

Then in some shady, cool retreat,
Where sun and shadows slyly meet
Beyond the deserts' torrid heat,
We'll make our paradise complete.

We'll seek the lowland and the fen,
The sunny hillside and the glen;
We'll listen to the lark, and then --
We'll meet the robin and the wren.

The red-wing swings on bending reed,
The bittern stalks among the weed.
On airy wings the swallows speed
O'er lake and stream and sunny mead.

At eve the catbird leads the choir,
Then follows owl from hillside higher.
The frogs tune in with harp and lyre
While glowworms light the heaven fire.

This peaceful paradise of mine
Is also waiting to be thine.
When weary of the world's design
Come make my paradise your shrine.

~ A. K. Mehl

From my mother's poetry notebook

The Best Road of All

The Best Road of All

I like a road that leads away to prospects white and fair,
A road that is an ordered road, like a nun's evening prayer;
But best of all I love a road that leads to God knows where.

You come upon it suddenly -- you cannot seek it out;
It's like a secret still unheard and never noised about;
But when you see it, gone at once is every lurking doubt.

It winds beside some rushing stream where aspens lightly quiver;
It follows many a broken field by many a shining river;
It seems to lead you on and on, forever and forever.

You tramp along its dusty way beneath the shadowy trees,
And hear, beside you chattering birds or happy booming bees,
And all around you golden sounds, the green leaves' litanies.

And here's a hedge and there's a cot; and then, strange, sudden turns --
A dip, a rise, a little glimpse where the red sunset burns;
A bit of sky at evening time, the scent of hidden ferns.

A winding road, a loitering road, the finger mark of God,
Traced where the Maker of the world leaned over ways untrod.
See!  Here He smiled His glowing smile, and lo, the golden rod!

I like a road that wanders straight; the kin's highway is fair,
And lovely are the sheltered lanes that take you here and there;
But best of all I love a road that leads to God knows where.

~ Chas. Hanson Towne

From my mother's poetry notebook