Clear Crystals | Page 2

hate.?When lovers meet forgiven after pain,?Tears cleanse the heart and mind of fire and mote,?And freshen countenance and bleach the stain.?O rain of peace, that washes doubt away,?And casts a burden from the heart and home.?Sad hearts in joy united on this day;?Now buds will bloom again in garden loam.?Glad tears that come unbidden thus and free?Have banished care and brought you back to me.
THE PROMISE OF SPRING
Today resplendent in red, grays and gold,?No wind disturbs the calm of Winter's rest,?But quiet and serene on earth's broad breast?Is shrub and bush and seed in loamy hold;?The buds on elm are waiting to unfold,?Our biddie hen wears crimson on her crest.?This gorgeous day, when children laugh and jest,?And run and dance and not a thought withhold.
For Winter's frost was gone at early noon.?We know that Spring will come on southern breeze;?The grass will green and roses bloom again.?We love the flowers, summer warmth and boon,?O joy of earth, in green and swaying trees,?In buds and bees on this broad prairie plain.
THE DAYS LIVE AGAIN
O hallowed charm of long departed days;?The good and bad blend in a sparkling stream.?If one recalls youth's glad and care free ways;?The distant roar of music is supreme,?When viewing life's almost forgotten trail.?There is a stream that twines its way about?Through shady spots, by broken, rotted rail.?The falling water glitters, and the trout,?Again, like precious memories, flash and dart.?Through bleak and cold, a precipice once crossed?Still fills with pride and pain the aging heart;?For time has now the thorns and rocks embossed,?And thus the long dead past is always bright,?For those whose sun is sinking into night.
ROLLING TRUCKS
Rolling over desert sands?Steady there are dough-boy's hands.?Gliding past the silver sage?Caring naught for fame or wage;?Rolling trucks for Uncle Sam,?In his kit are bread and ham.?Slipping over moon-lit dunes?Humming low the old men's tunes.?Every moment plays the game,?Like an iron in a flame.?Rolling over desert sands,?Steady there are dough-boy's hands.
AT DUSK
A low blue cloud lies stretched beyond the trees,?All quiet so. The chant of birds uplifts,?And through the evening dusk a tremor sifts,?The chill of night creeps close with turning keys,?And darkness soothes each child. The daylight flees,?Though many voices lend their artful gifts,?And mingle with the city's murmured rifts.?While twilight covers all with mysteries,?There is the roll of train or army truck;?A mother calls her three year old within.?The most of us preparing for the night;?Some go their way to labor for their luck,?And others toil that we may rest or spin.?God guards the whole until the morning light.
THE MORNING
The morning freshened with the dew of night,?Was glad with crowing cock and singing bird;?And through the mists came hope and kindly word.?The east aglow with early amber light.?As perking coffee roused the hungry sprite;?Beside the hearth a friendly pussy purred,?And in a crib a blue-eyed baby stirred,?Awakened from sweet slumber of the night.?O dawning! Here with all her usual charm.?Another day to toil for child and friend,?One hour to praise our God, while hatreds ebbed;?To hope and live and succor from all harm?Those weaker ones who know not how to fend,?And cast a beam that lights their way ahead.
O RIVER BANK
I love to loiter by the old oak tree,?Where waters ripple over clean white stones,?And cresses, mint with feathered fern grown high.?In such a place the peaceful thoughts will come;?There is no hurry there where nature plays.?Soft gentle breezes wave the grass and sedge;?White fluffy clouds pass overhead and roll.?Now dreaming, I hear the cricket's gay song.?O river bank you charm me always so.
THERE WILL COME A DAY
There will come a day, sometime,?When a bright light will shine through?The clouds of darkness, sometime.?And the grass will grow anew;?Glad bells will ring at the dawn;?And at noon great horns will blow;?At evening fear will be gone;?The home lights through dusk will glow.?It will be a joyous day!?And the earth will shout with laughter,?When world peace is made, some day.?We can hear the birds thereafter.
LATE AUTUMN
The fragrant autumn winds float painted leaves?Across the plains at sunset's evening hour,?A scarlet rose, a zinnia in the flower?Stand brilliant there beneath the cottage eaves.?The locust hums his song, the spider weaves?His silken web in every shady bower,?Where thunder clouds pile high in tumbled tower;?The farmer's loft is bursting with great sheaves;?And cornstalks bend with heavy golden loads,?For rains have blessed the land the summer long.?Now children trip on winding trails from school;?They swing in rhythmic time along the roads;?A hungry, hearty crowd, suntanned and strong.?This glorious fall day in evening cool.
ALL HAIL RED CROSS
All hail Red Cross! White robes of light, all hail!?On brave and noble brows the symbol shines.?A cry for help is never called in vain,?For these courageous ones go everywhere,?On sea or land, in sun and stormy sky.?They face all dangers--carry succor forth?To save their fellowmen--with speed and skill?The aid