The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

~Robert Frost~

The Christmas Guest

It happened one day near December’s end
Two neighbors called on an old friend
And they found his shop so meager and lean
Made gay with a thousand boughs of green
And Conrad was sittin’ with face ashine
When he suddenly stopped as he stitched a twine
And he said “Oh friends at dawn today
When the cock was crowin’ the night away
The Lord appeared in a dream to me
And said ‘I’m comin’ your guest to be.’
So I’ve been busy with feet astir
And strewin’ my shop with branches of fir
The table is spread and the kettle is shined
And over the rafters the holly is twined
Now I’ll wait for my Lord to appear
And listen closely so I will hear His step
As He nears my humble place
And I’ll open the door and look on His face”
So his friends went home and left Conrad alone
For this was the happiest day he’d known
For long since his family had passed away
And Conrad had spent many a sad Christmas day
But he knew with the Lord as his Christmas guest
This Christmas would be the dearest and best
So he listened with only joy in his heart
And with every sound he would rise with a start
And look for the Lord to be at his door
Like the vision he’d had a few hours before
So he ran to the window after hearin’ a sound
But all he could see on the snow-covered ground
Was a shabby beggar who’s shoes were torn
And all of his clothes were ragged and worn
But Conrad was touched and he went to the door
And he said “You know, your feet must be frozen and sore
I have some shoes in my shop for you
And a coat that’ll keep you warmer too”
So with grateful heart, the man went away
But Conrad noticed the time of day
And wondered what made the Lord so late
And how much longer he’d have to wait
When he heard a knock he ran to the door
But it was only a stranger once more
A bent old lady with a shawl of black
With a bundle of kindling piled on her back
She asked for only a place to rest
But that was reserved for Conrad’s great guest
But her voice seemed to plead “Don’t send me away
Let me rest for awhile on Christmas day”
So Conrad brewed her a steamin’ cup
And told her to sit at the table and sup
But after she left he was filled with dismay
For he saw that the hours were slippin’ away
And the Lord hadn’t come as He said He would
And Conrad felt sure he’d misunderstood
When out of the stillness he heard a cry
“Please help me, and tell me where am I!”
So again he opened his friendly door
And stood disappointed as twice before
It was only a child who’d wandered away
And was lost from her family on Christmas day
Again, Conrad’s heart was heavy and sad
But he knew he should make the little girl glad
So he called her in and he wiped her tears
And quieted all her childish fears
Then he led her back to her home once more
But as he entered his own darkened door
He knew the Lord was not comin’ today
For the hours of Christmas had passed away
So he went to his room and he knelt down to pray
And he said “Dear Lord, why did You delay?
What kept You from comin’ to call on me?
For I wanted so much Your Face to see”
When soft in the silence, a voice he heard
“Lift up your head, for I kept my word
Three times my shadow crossed your floor
And three times I came to your lonely door
I was the beggar with bruised, cold feet
And I was the woman you gave something to eat
I was the child on the homeless street.
Three times I knocked and three times I came in
And each time I found the warmth of a friend
Of all the gifts love is the best
And I was honored to be your Christmas guest.”

~Helen Steiner Rice~

There Is A Pleasure…

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,

There is a rapture on the lonely shore,

There is society, where none intrudes,

By the deep sea, and music in it’s roar:

I love not man the less, but nature more.

~Lord Byron~

If All The Skies

If all the skies were sunshine,

Our faces would be fain

To feel once more upon them

The cooling splash of rain.

If all the world were music,

Our hearts would often long

For one sweet strain of silence,

To break the endless song.

If life were always merry,

Our souls would seek relief,

And rest from weary laughter

In the quiet arms of grief.

~Henry van Dyke~

Days

Some days my thoughts are just cocoons,

All cold, and dull, and blind.

They hang from dripping branches

In the grey woods of my mind.

And other days they drift and shine,

Such free and flying things!

I find the gold-dust in my hair,

Left by their brushing wings.

~Karle Wilson Baker~

Life

Let me but live my life from year to year,

With forward face and unreluctant soul.

Not hurrying too, nor turning from the goal;

Not mourning for the things that disappear

In the dim past, nor holding back in fear

From what the future veils; but with a whole

And happy heart, that pays it’s toll

To youth and age, and travels on with cheer.

So let the way wind up the hill or down,

O’er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy;

Still seeking what I sought when but a boy,

New friendship, high adventure, and a crown,

I shall grow old, but never lose life’s zest,

Because the road’s last turn will be the best.

~Henry van Dyke~

A Psalm Of Life

A Psalm of Life

Tell me not in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream!

For the soul is dead that slumbers,

And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! Life is earnest!

And the grave is not its goal;

Dust thou are, to dust thou returnest,

Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,

Is our destined end or way;

But to act, that each tomorrow

Find us farther than today.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating

Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world’s broad field of battle,

In the bivouac of Life,

Be not like dumb, driven cattle!

Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe’er pleasant!

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

Act, – act in the living Present!

Heart within, and God o’erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us

We can make our lives sublime,

And, departing, leave behind us

Footprints on the sand of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another,

Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,

Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us then be up and doing,

With a heart for any fate;

Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor and to wait.

~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow~

The Very Thing I Live For

How can I deceive the very thing I live for?  (writing)

(truth)

I love life more dearly, yes, more dearly [than] my

strange, dark

self, which I yet do not understand.  Who am I? I can’t

say…I

am a stranger to myself:  I emerged in birth into a

strange, gray

world, and my child self was full of wonder…

You may wander west across the plains, across the

mountains into

the dry Nevadas, you may journey south to the sultry

Gulf, or

north to the dark pines…wherever you go, seek the

deepest, darkest

forest and steal into its most secluded and innermost

glade, and

there you’ll find a heavy rock mouldy and dark and green

in the

green, green shade, and when you turn it over, and the

crow caws

from his secret branch, and the forest echoes and echoes,

and

the elfin deer peeps over from a hidden brook, and the

owl ruffles

his feathers in the cool shade by the virgin well, and the

tall pines

sway pointing at the passing high clouds, and from far off

you

hear once more the caw of the crow, yes, when you turn

over this

rock, there you’ll find my heart…

When I see you and your beauty, yes, your youthful,

laughing beauty,

my heart stirs the heavy green rock and once more I see

a field

of violets in the May breeze and I want to go out with the

sheep

and sing by the waterfalls…

~Jack Kerouac~

Little Things

There’s nothing very beautiful and nothing very gay

About the rush of faces in the town by day;

But a light tan cow in a pale green mead,

That is very beautiful, beautiful indeed.

And the soft March wind, and the low March mist

Are better than kisses in a dark street kissed.

The fragrance of the forest when it wakes at dawn,

The fragrance of a trim green village lawn,

The hearing of the murmur of the rain at play,

These things are beautiful, beautufil as day!

And I shan’t stand waiting for love or scorn

When the feast is laid for a day new-born…

Oh, better let the little things I loved when little

Return when the heart finds the great things brittle;

And better is a temple made of bark and thong

Than a tall stone temple that may stand too long

~Orrick Johns~

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.  As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.  Speak your truth quietly and clearly, and listen to others, even to the dull and ignorant, they too have their story.  Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit.  If you compare yourself with others you may become vain or bitter, for there will always be greater and lesser persons than yourself.  Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.  Keep interested in your own career, however humble, it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.  Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery.  But let not this blind you to what virtue there is, many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.  Be yourself.  Especially, do not feign affection.  Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.  Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.  Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.  But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.  Many fears are borne of fear and loneliness.  Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.  You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars, you have a right to be here.  And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.  Therefore, be at peace with God, whatever you concieve Him to be.  And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.  With all it’s sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.  Be cheerful.  Strive to be happy.

~Max Ehrmann~