Friend Family Poems

Mommy Will Sing A Lullaby All tucked up and snug in bed  as angels stand guard above your head, Mommy will kiss away your fears. She'll stroke your hair and dry your tears. She softly sings a lullaby  about the stars up in the sky.  Twinkle, twinkle star so bright,  shining down on us tonight. Her breath is warm upon your face  as you lie still in her embrace.  With sleepy eyes you gaze at mom as the moon comes up to replace the sun.  Tomorrow will be another day  where you'll have fun, laugh, and play.  But sleep for now, and Mommy will sing a song for you  and you will smile the whole way through. She gently holds your hand in hers, your fingers wrapped around her thumb. These are treasured moments as she waits for sleep to come.  Her voice is but a whisper now; her tone is soft and true, for there is nowhere in the world she'd rather be than lying here with you.

The Stick-Together Families The stick-together families are happier by far Than the brothers and the sisters who take separate highways are. The gladdest people living are the wholesome folks who make A circle at the fireside that no power but death can break. And the finest of conventions ever held beneath the sun Are the little family gatherings when the busy day is done. There are rich folk, there are poor folk, who imagine they are wise, And they're very quick to shatter all the little family ties. Each goes searching after pleasure in his own selected way, Each with strangers likes to wander, and with strangers likes to play. But it's bitterness they harvest, and it's empty joy they find, For the children that are wisest are the stick-together kind. There are some who seem to fancy that for gladness they must roam, That for smiles that are the brightest they must wander far from home. That the strange friend is the true friend, and they travel far

A Dog Has Died My dog has died. I buried him in the garden next to a rusted old machine. Some day I'll join him right there, but now he's gone with his shaggy coat, his bad manners and his cold nose, and I, the materialist, who never believed in any promised heaven in the sky for any human being, I believe in a heaven I'll never enter. Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom where my dog waits for my arrival waving his fan-like tail in friendship. Ai, I'll not speak of sadness here on earth, of having lost a companion who was never servile. His friendship for me, like that of a porcupine withholding its authority, was the friendship of a star, aloof, with no more intimacy than was called for, with no exaggerations: he never climbed all over my clothes filling me full of his hair or his mange, he never rubbed up against my knee like other dogs obsessed with sex. No, my dog used to gaze at me, paying

                                                                              At The Zoo There are lions and roaring tigers, and enormous camels and things, There are biffalo-buffalo-bisons, and a great big bear with wings. There's a sort of a tiny potamus, and a tiny nosserus too - But I gave buns to the elephant when I went down to the Zoo! There are badgers and bidgers and bodgers, and a Super-in-tendent's House, There are masses of goats, and a Polar, and different kinds of mouse, And I think there's a sort of a something which is called a wallaboo - But I gave buns to the elephant when I went down to the Zoo! If you try to talk to the bison, he never quite understands; You can't shake hands with a mingo - he doesn't like shaking hands. And lions and roaring tigers hate saying, "How do you do?" - But I give buns to the elephant when I go down to the Zoo!

A Wise Old Owl A wise old owl sat in an oak, The more he heard, the less he spoke; The less he spoke, the more he heard; Why aren't we all like that wise old bird?

                                                                              Daffodils I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed—and gazed—but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.