A FORWARD

Bear with me gentle reader
If you're inclined to look,
Or perchance scan these pages
you'll find within this book;

I lack the gift good poets have
That express their thoughts in rhyme,
Or portray mental pictures
That make good poems sublime.

I also lack the talent
That bring good poets success,
But with simple inspiration
I've tried to do my best.

If there's one simple poem
That you'll enjoy and read,
Then I will be rewarded,
And be well paid indeed.

RECOLLECTIONS

I always have remembered, tho' it's many years ago
When I would kneel these simple words to pray,
As my Mother morn and evening would recite each
Little prayer,
And I'd try to repeat every word she'd say.

"Now I lay be down to sleep", it was just an evening prayer,
Said in simple language children understand;
And methinks the prayers our mothers taught us
Often helps us through,
When we at times do need a guiding hand.

"Make me good Dear Lord I pray,
Keep and guide me through this day",
Just a daily repetition, nothing new,
Yet it is a recollection, little words I
Ne'er forgot,
Said each morning and quite often hurried through.

Where ever I have wandered, on the land, or o'er the sea
Some childhood scenes have followed all the way;
And the memories I cherish most was by my
Mother's knee,
As she first taught me these little prayers to say.

SPRING IS HERE

Songbirds from the south are winging,
Children's skipping ropes are swinging,
Gurgling brooks are merrily singing,
Spring is everywhere;
O'er the mill-dam water's flowing,
Hark, the farmland cattle's lowing,
And the night winds softly blowing
Whispers "Spring is here".

Cease my soul thy sad repining,
See how bright the sun is shining,
It's no time for peevish whining,
Vernal Spring is here;
Banish all misgivings, doubtings,
See the tiny buds are sprouting,
Soon there'll be the annual outings
To the country fair.

Spring means life and resurrection,
Spring means flowers in true perfection,
Bursting out in each direction;
Fragrant is the air;
Springtime brings us consolation,
Spreading beauty through the nation,
May we each in our vocation
Its full beauties share.

Spring, 1950

THE MASTER WORKMAN

When the early morning sunlight
Sweeps across the towering hills,
And the valleys are resounding
To the waterfalls and rills;
With the fields bedecked with daisies,
And the orchards dressed so rare,
Then we see the Master Workman
Manifested everywhere.

When we see the unique pattern
In a leaf or lily bell,
Or some magic work of nature
In the woodland or the dell;
If our eyes detect real beauty,
It is then we'll understand,
that the Master Workman's art is
Unsurpassed by human hand.

Could we climb the highest mountain,
And survey the landscape o'er,
There we'd see the earth's true pattern
As we never saw before;
Lakes and streams, the hills and valleys,
Rolling plains and mountains high,
A panorama of this earth spread out
Beneath an azure sky.

There's no lack of beauty in a
Rainbow's arch suspended high,
Or the tinted clouds at sunset
Midst a flaming western sky;
From the early morning sunlight,
'till the sun sinks in the west,
Morning, noon and night the Master
Workman's art is manifest.

August, 1950

Photo: Albion Falls, Hamilton. Few people are aware that half way between Toronto and Niagara Falls is "The City of Waterfalls" - namely Hamilton. To date 81 waterfalls and cascades have been found within the city boundaries making it possibly the city with the most number of waterfalls in the world for its size of a half million people. Many of these waterfalls can be reached by hiking the Bruce Trail through Hamilton.

IN THE COUNTRY

It is peaceful in the country
In the early morning haze,
Where young lambs skip and frolic,
And the lowing cattle graze.
The old farm looks so peaceful
With snake fence running through,
And the early morning sunlight
Reflects the sparkling dew.

It is peaceful in the country
"Neath the midnight stars at night,
Ere the morning star arises
To usher in the light.
There the scarecrow and the fairies
Meet for their rendezvous,
'Til the rooster crowing loudly,
Proclaims the night is through.

There is beauty in the country
When nature waves her wand,
When Spring in all it's splendour
Spreads beauty o're the land.
O're hill and dale and valley,
In woodland and the dell,
Creation joins in chorus,
"God created all things well".

May, 1950

AT THE CARNIVAL

Whene'er the carnival comes to town
Each summer to the camping ground,
then folks each evening far and near,
Strolls forth to patronize the fair.

If you're a man with goodly means
With spare cash jingling in your jeans;
The carnival is quite a show
Where you may spend your surplus "dough".

Perchance you'll win a kewpie doll,
That's better than no prize at all;
Or if your luck's not up to par,
Maybe you'll get a chocolate bar.

Try shooting birdies on the move,
And see how well your aim improve;
The fish pond too I know you'll try,
But what you catch will be small fry.

Then ride upon the ferris wheel,
You'll be surprised how young you'll feel;
Now up, now down, around you go,
It's the best fun of all the show.

You'll mix and mingle midst the din
In hopes a super prize you'll win;
And if you lose, or if you've won,
The carnival is lots of fun.

April, 1950

THE LURE OF THE SEA

When each spring returns, then my heart yearns
With an inwardly emotion,
To hear once more the surf on shore,
Down by th' Atlantic ocean.

To hear again the waves refrain
At dusk when day is dying,
Or the seagull's cry when waves roll high,
And o'er head the scud is flying.

Where fishing boats so proudly floats
After their spring's o'er-hauling,
So neat and trim from stern to stem
Ready for the season's calling.

And to watch each smak on a windard tack
Close reefed, and sea spray flying,
As they come about at the harbour's mouth
When the summer's day is dying.

Far from that shore where the breakers roar,
I hear not the sea's commotion,
But the wind and rain oft brings again
Echoes from the briny ocean.

February, 1950

LILAC TIME

Lilacs blooming in the springtime
Sheds their beauty far and near,
Bursting out in wild profusion,
So fragrant on the morning air.

By the quiet parks and hedges,
And the rural country side,
In the dell and verdant valleys
Lilacs blossom far and wide.

When the Spring expands its beauty
Songbirds warble a melody,
Basking in the golden sunshine,
Nesting in a lilac tree.

Through the winding paths and byways,
And down lovers lane is seen
Lilac plumes waving a welcome,
Blending with the foliage green.

Spring enchants us with its beauty,
Drest in nature's gar so fair,
Tinting earth's fair land with colour,
Spreading bouquets everywhere.

March, 1950

REFLECTIONS

When you look into your mirror
Every morning when you rise,
Do you see a true reflection,
Or your visage in disguise?

Do you meet a face that's smiling,
And two eyes so bright and clear,
Or a frown upon your features
As if Life was hard to bear?

When you gaze into the mirror
Of your past vocation's role,
May you find true satisfaction
In the things you there behold.

May these past reflections make you
Proud to feel you played the game,
In your daily work or pleasure
That brought credit to your name.

Looking back upon our failures,
Or on chores that were well done,
We are gazing at reflections,
And memories that linger on.

When we gaze on some old photo,
Or memento of the past,
Then again we see reflections
In our mental looking glass.

April, 1950

SCENES AT SEA

Have you watched the foaming white caps
Rolling down an inland bay,
When a howling late nor'wester
Favours nothing in its way?
Have you seen these waters tranquil,
Mirrored 'neath the stars at night?
If you haven't, then believe me,
You have missed a thrilling sight.

When deep sea leviathans flounder,
And engaged in bitter strife;
Have you watched them as they battled,
Fighting for their very life?
Have you seen a towering ice berg
Glistening in the bright sunlight?
If you haven't, then believe me,
You have missed a thrilling sight.

Have you watched the graceful sea gulls
Riding on the ocean's crest,
And the playful mackerels leaping
Like acrobats at their best?
Have you seen a full rigged clipper
Drest out in her canvas white?
If you haven't, then believe me,
You have missed a thrilling sight.

Have you seen an Arctic ice flow
Crash against a bold head land?
Have you watched a loan sand piper
Hunting on some quiet strand?
Have you seen a sea bird's rookery,
And have watched them there in flight?
If you haven't, then believe me
You have missed a thrilling sight.

April 18, 1950

THE GRASSHOPPER'S EXIT

The old farm looked quiet and peaceful,
The sun shone so brightly each day,
With butterflies, bees and the crickets
So beautiful, busy and gay.

Amongst them there was a grasshopper
Who felt so discouraged and worn,
He couldn't keep pace with his neighbors,
And wished that he never was born.

Quoth he, "I am weary with working,
And hopping and jumping each day,
I think I'll hop out of this country
And seek fairer fields far away.

He told all his cousins and neighbours,
The bumble bee, beetles and gnats,
They wished him good luck on his venture,
And bade him adieu with regrets.

Said the old gobbler as he was passing,
"You're going away Sir I see",
He opened his mouth as the hopper he jumped,
The first hop he landed in Turkey.

August, 1950

SIGNS OF SPRING

Spring smiles again upon our land,
And radiates the quickened earth,
Once more again on every hand
Appears new hope, new life, new birth.

The willow trees don plumes of white,
New life appears in flower and tree,
And nature revels in delight
As song birds chant their melody.

As anglers check their tackle o'er
Hope springs eternal in each breast;
With coloured gadgets in galore,
They'll soon be on a fishing quest.

Again spring fever's in the air,
A malady none can't deny,
As young lads sit with dreamy stare,
And maidens with bewitching eye.

We know it's spring by signs we see,
And sounds that fall upon the ear,
We welcome spring, and all agree
It's the best season of the year.

Spring, 1950

THE FOUR SEASONS

Spring is the season when rebirth
appears, and Nature's unseen hand
Renews with life the quickened earth,
And spreads rare beauty o'er the land.

Then Summer's rain and glowing sun
Matures vast fields of waving grain;
And culminates what Spring begun
As Autumn follows in its train.

At Autumn, harvesting begin
With reaper, and with threshing mill,
And Summer crops are garnered in
As days grow short and nights grow chill.

Then Winter comes with icy breath,
And blankets earth with fallen snow,
Then nature sleeps secure beneath
'Til wakened by the Spring's warm glow.

The seasons all throughout the year,
Each hath their own appointed place,
And each an allotted role to bear,
As earth keeps rolling on in space.

May, 1950

MORNING

When eastern skies proclaim the dawn,
And morning stars they fade away,
With curtains of the night withdrawn
To usher in another day;
Then watchmen waiting for the morn
Proclaims "Awake, behold the dawn."

The Old Sol in full majesty
Arises mid a flaming ray,
Transforming land and all the sea
From darkened night to light of day;
Then man resumes his task once more
Where he left off the day before.

June, 1950

NIGHT

When evening comes at close of day,
The curtain of the night comes down,
Then darkness o'er the land holds sway,
And spreads its mantle all around;
Then beasts of jungle and the plain
Sets forth to stalk their prey again.

At night when all the nation sleep,
The moon and stars keep watch above,
And in the darkened forest deep,
Wild creatures through the wild wood rove;
So pass the night and day is here,
Thus flies a week, a month, a year.

June, 1950

THE NAZARENE

Long, long ago at Nazareth
There dwelled a carpenter by trade,
With chisel, saw and plane He wrought,
And due respect to Him was paid.

This Nazarene he had a Son,
And in the Good Old Book we find
Although He was of lowly birth,
Yet He was born of David's line.

And when the time was fully come
His mission He began on earth;
He healed the sick, gave sight to blind,
And raised up invalids since birth.

He taught the poor from day to day,
And children small by Him were blest;
This was His theme, and this His text,
"Come unto Me, I'll give you rest".

In homes and wards of hospitals
Where sick and broken bodies lie,
The great Physician still draws near,
Although unseen by human eye.

May, 1950

THE PILGRIM'S JOURNEY

A Pilgrim set out on life's journey,
The road it was rugged and long,
And often despair and misgivings
Accompanied him instead of a song.
The trail it was rough
O'er moor, fen and buff,
But the bold Pilgrim kept plodding on.

He climbed the bleak hill of Misfortune,
And trod the lone vale of Despair,
On through the deep canyon of Sorrow,
And up the steep mountain of Care.
So rough was the road,
And wary the load
The Pilgrim so often would bear.

As the light of life's day was declining,
And the shadows gave warning of night,
Ahead on the green slopes of Gladness
He beheld a fair city so bright.
His goal it was nigh,
His heart sang with joy,
He had reached the blest mansions of Light.

Approaching the guard o the portal,
"Have you room for a Pilgrim" he cried;
The sentinel he softly made answer
"There is room for all pilgrims in side,
All who comes this way
At the close of life's day,
They forever and ever abide."

September, 1950

AT CHRISTMASTIME

Christmas bells are ringing,
White robed choirs are singing
All in joyful exultation;
Tinseled trees they glisten,
Little children listen
Filled with eager expectations.
Far and near o'er the air
Comes glad singing voices,
Young and old rejoices.

May goodwill and gladness
Take the place of sadness,
As the yuletide season greets us;
May it in some measure
Give us inward pleasure,
And with goodly favours treat us;
May each one old and young
Sing with heart and voices
As our land rejoices.

Christmas, 1950

THE STILLY NIGHT

Often in the stilly night
When in our sleep we're dreaming,
The moonbeams from the moon so bright
Through window shades comes streaming.

The moon and clouds play hide and seek
As stars so brightly glitter,
And o'er the moat and by the creek
The eerie shadows flitter.

The night hawk on it's nightly quest
So fleet of wing goes flying,
And snug beneath the robin's breast,
Her little brood is lying.

Wild creatures through the forest trail
With stealthy steps are wending,
And in the night a plaintive cry
Denotes some tragic ending.

The elves and fairies skip and prance
Through all the silent hours,
And moonlight shadows flit and dance
Amongst the leafy bowers.

And sometimes in a stilly night
The hours seem long and weary,
It's then we yearn for the sunlight
To end a night that's dreary.

June, 1950

THE EASTER PARADE

As you stroll along the board walk
At an Easter promenade,
What a mixed conglomeration
You will see in that parade.

All the various shades and colours,
Everything in newest styles,
And the latest fads and fashions
With the quaintest nobby tiles.

Swanky suits and tailored costumes,
New creations bright and loud,
And the nifty Easter bonnets
Worn by fair sex in the crowd.

You will meet some smiling faces,
Others looking sad and long,
It all blends the combination
In this annual Easter throng.

There you'll see the blondes and brunettes
All dressed up from head to toes,
And young swains so brisk and buoyant,
In gay togs and swanky hose.

Aged pedestrians you'll encounter,
Laughing youth with buoyant spring,
Also plump and sedate madams
With wee Fido on a string.

Then you'll ruminate and ponder
As again you homeward jogs,
Easter has a deeper meaning
Than just showing off fine togs.

Easter, 1950