Ah, Yes! Love

Ah, Yes! Love
by Clarence B. Campbell

Ah, yes! Love
Is peaches and honey, and figs, and cream,
And wild grapes dripping beside the stream,
Humming birds,
And a young man's dream!
Ah, yes! Love
Is bubbles and beauty and lantern light,
Music and madness and dizzy height,
Tender words,
And a star-filled night!

Ah, yes! Love
Is oceans and azure, and infinite skies,
Rubies and ivory, and fathomless eyes,
Where the bluebird springs
And sings as he flies!
Ah, yes! Love
Is whispers, and flickers, and candleshine,
Glances and trances, and deep, red wine,
And the moon-dust that clings
To the gossamer vine!

Ah, yes! Love
Is kisses, caresses, and sweet desire,
Prickles and shivers, and flashing fire,
And melodies
From a throbbing lyre!
Ah, yes! Love
Is silver, and roses, and gay champagne,
And the soft reprise of the April rain,
And memories
That will long remain!

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here,
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer,
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Hope

Hope
by Emily Dickenson

Hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune - without the words,
and never stops at all,
and sweetest in the gale is heard;
and sore must be the storm
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
and on the strangest sea;
Yet, never in extremity,
it asked a crumb of me.

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Twas the Night Before Christmas
AKA: A Visit from St. Nicholas
by: Clement Clarke Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas,
when all through the house
not a creature was stirring,
not even a mouse:
the stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of sugarplums danced in their heads;
and mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
had just settled our brains for a long winter nap;
when out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon, on the breast of the new fallen snow,
gave luster of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer,
with a little old driver so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On Comet! On Cupid! on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
so up to the housetop the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of toys,
and St. Nicholas, too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
a bundle of toys he had flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes- how they twinkled! his dimples- how merry!
His cheeks were like rose, his nose like a cherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly
that shook when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
and filled all the stockings; then turned with a jer,
and laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod,
up the chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
and away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!"

The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken
by Rober Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
and sorry I could not travel both
and be one traveler, long I stood
and looked down one as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
and having perhaps the better claim,
because it was grassy and wanted wear;
though as for that the passing there
had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
in leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Sojmewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
and that has made all the difference.

When You Thought I Wasn't Looking

When You Thought I Wasn't Looking
by Mary Schilke Korzan

When you thought I wasn't looking, you displayed my first report, and I wanted to do another.

When you thought I wasn't looking, you fed a stray cat, and I thought it was good to be kind to animals.

When you thought I wasn't looking, you gave me a sticker, and I knew the little things were special things.

When you thought I wasn't looking, you put your arm around me and I felt loved.

When you thought I wasn't looking I saw tears come from your eyes, and I learned that sometimes things hurt- but that it's alright to cry.

When you thought I wasn't looking, you smiled, and it made me want to look that pretty too.

When you thought I wasn't looking, you cared, and I wanted to be everything I could be.

When you thought I wasn't looking, I looked... and wanted to say thanks for all those things you did when you thought I wasn't looking.

Where the Sidewalk Ends

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermind wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
and the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow.
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
and we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go.
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
the place where the sidewakl ends.