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Life with Barbara
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My bed is like a little boat,
Nurse helps me in when I embark,
She girds
me in my sailor's coat,
And starts me in the dark,
At night I go on board,
And say good night,
To all my friends
on shore,
I shut my eyes and sail away,
And see and hear no more,
And sometimes things to bed I take,
As prudent
sailors have do,
Perhaps a slice of wedding cake,
Perhaps a toy or two.
All night across the dark we steer,
But
when the day returns at last,
Safe in my room,beside the peir,
I find my vessel fast.
IS THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT
This is the malt
That lay
in the house that Jack built.
This is the Rat,
That ate the malt
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This
is the dog,
That worried the cat,
That ate the Rat,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cow
with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That ate the rat,
That ate the malt,
That
lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That
tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That ate the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack
built.
This is the man all tatterd and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the
crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That
lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the Preist all shaven and shorn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That
milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That
ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
This is the cock that crowed in the morn,
That waked the
Preist all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tatterd and torn,
That kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That
milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the cat,
That killed the rat,
That
ate the malt,
That lay in the hosue that Jack built.
This is the farmer sowing his corn,
That kept the cock that
crowed in the morn,
That waked the Preist all shaven and shorn,
That married the man all tatterd and torn,
That
kissed the maiden all forlorn,
That milked the cow with the crumpled horn,
That tossed the dog,
That worried the
cat,
That killed the rat,
That ate the malt,
That lay in the house that Jack built.
THE YOUNG GIRL AND THE BIRD
One day while I was lying,
Beneath
a willow tree,
A tiny bird came flying,
And circled over me.
Upon a branch above me,
He sang the time away.
He really seemed to love me,
He would not fly away.
And day by day I tamed him,
I feed him from my hand,
And
when as mine I claimed him,
He seemed to understand.
He sat upon my shoulder,
So gentle still and meek.
And
then my pet grew bolder,
And softly pecked my cheek.
And though I loved him dearly,
I tired to set him free,
But
still he hoverd near me
As happy as can be.
And as he flew around me,
He sang for hours on end.
He seemed
to say,"You found me,
I'll always be your friend."
RUTH MARTIN
"HOW DO I LOVE THEE?"
How do I love thee?Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach,when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being
and ideal,Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need,by sun and candle light.
I love thee
freely,as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely,as men turn fromPraise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs,and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,-I
love thee with the breath,
Smiles,tears,of all my life!-and,if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING (1806-1861)
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