Some Broken Twigs

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Beede
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Title: Some Broken Twigs
Author: Clara M. Beede
Release Date: February 28, 2005 [EBook #15211]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
0. START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOME
BROKEN TWIGS ***
Produced by David Starner, Karen Dalrymple, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.
Some Broken Twigs
BY
CLARA M. BEEDE
[Illustration]
The Press of Flozari, Pegasus Studios
Box 5804, Cleveland, 1, Ohio

1946
_Dedicated to my granddaughter
BETTY TODD BRISTOW
the
new mother_
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We are grateful for permission to include certain poems that were first

published in Caravan of Verse, Cass County Democrat, 1943
Chipmunk, From, Lyricists Reflections, 1940 Song Poems, The New
Earth, Tulsa Tribune, and 1941 Visions.

OTHER TORCHBEARER CHAPBOOKS
by
CLARA M. BEEDE
45: Brown Plumes
51: More Brown Plumes
63: Sunshine and Rain

73: Clear Crystals (Second Printing)
88: Only Pebbles
94:
Golden Leaves
98: Sail High Above
FOREWORD
In the four seasons of the year there are many beautiful days as well as
dismal days in life. The broken twigs and trails, as well as the good
ones go to make up this world. All mark and show posterity the way
out of the woods.
These poems, and many other poems written by Mrs. Beede show these
things and the wonders of nature.
As only a true mother can, she has shown me these wonders. I sincerely
hope that all who read her poems will appreciate them as I do and reap
the benefit of the morals of her thoughtful and enjoyable poems and
know as I do her love of nature and things beautiful.
Genevieve Beede Henderson
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
TO NEW YORK

For maid and lad New York is fairy land,
Delightful charms in
gorgeous brilliant lure!
Our youth do struggle on ambition's tour.

They meet life's challenge with true heart and hand.
Forgotten trails
are marked with scar and wand;
A blasted rock and broken twigs
assure
The traveler that others fought the moor,
And sailed the
stormy breakers, crossed the sand
To build the city on a granite slab.

They tamed the wilderness, a sturdy clan!
Retracing paths recall
the glory made,
Lays bare the secrets of the field and lab.
Such
tours give hope for future life and plan.
Brave men have set the torch
with ax and spade.
MEET THE CHALLENGE
The coddled youth, like greenhouse plant
Will wilt and die in desert
sand,
Can never meet the storms of life,
Untried and mild and soft
his hands.
He walks within the favored nooks,
Protected there much more than
those,
Who meet the challenge face ahead,
And struggle on to
conquer foes.
They learn to take the gaff and thrust,
And from an inner courage
gain
A faith in toil and love of truth;
They pray to God to ease the
pain.
WINTER
A glow of life shines from the leaf-stripped limbs,
In sheltered nooks
snowbirds are singing hymns.
The sycamore shafts gleam and shine
afar,
Down by the river where the black oaks are.
The goldenrod
now droops his fuzzy head;
There by my fence, leaves make a fluffy
bed.
They mulch my flower seed down in the loam;
Beyond below
the tall sedge grasses moan.
Seared grass curls firmly over tender
sprigs,
And my rose bush there curves its brown thorned twigs.

Beneath my window, tulip bulbs lay snug,
Quite safe and warm in

earthy winter rug.
All nature resting for a springtime gain,
And
quiet gray tones soothe an inner pain.
DREAMING BY THE RIVER
Ripples on the water
Rustling in the trees
Wind sighing gently

Whistling by with ease.
Cow-bells tinkling distant
Farmer on the
lea,
Cattle nibbling grasses
Little honey bee.
Frosted leaves of
autumn
Sailing down the stream.
Neatest clump of willows,
Oh,
for some ice cream.
WHEN YOU COME HOME
O happy, happy heart, that can but leap
For joy, when you return to
me again;
The love within grows fresh as morning glen,
Awakes
and lights the gloom where shadows creep.
--The night will come and
with it women weep.
Stay, Dear, with me, for dark will come and
then,
It fills the soul with fear--don't go again--
Black clouds will
roll, when only children sleep.
O Darling storms of midnight vex and
threat;
The gullies moan and then the goblins see!
It is not wise or
brave to prattle so;
And Dear, if you must go, I will not fret;
The
sun will shine when you come home to me,
Dark night is day and
only mild winds blow.
CHILDREN AT THE PARK
We hop and skip in time
In the shade of the sycamore trees,
Fly
around like the birds and the bees.
We swing and sway and climb
To the top of the strong monkey bars,

Watch the boats and the Riverside cars.
We swim and shout in glee,
While the ships on the river sail on.

How time flies and the morning is gone.
We leap and prance