"Mother's Job," Edgar A. Guest 1919, courtesy of Grandma Jean
I'm just the man to make things right,
To mend a sleigh or make a kite,
Or wrestle on the floor and play
Those rough and tumble games, but say!
Just let him get an ache or pain,
And start to whimper and complain,
And from my side he'll quickly flee
To clamber on his mother's knee.
I'm good enough to be his horse
And race with him along the course.
I'm just the friend he wants each time
There is a tree he'd like to climb,
And I'm the pal he's eager for
When we approach a candy store;
But for his mother straight he makes
Whene'er his little stomach aches.
He likes, when he is feeling well,
The kind of stories that I tell,
And I'm his comrade and his chum
And I must march behind his drum.
To me through thick and thin he'll stick,
Unless he happens to be sick.
In which event, with me he's through--
Only his mother then will do.
- This poem is dedicated to Matt, Wade, Chad, and Andrew.
- This is poetry I (Gr. Jean) grew up with. What do you remember about poems from your childhood?
"Our Birth is But a Sleep and a Forgetting," William Wordsworth 1807, courtesy of Grandma Jean
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home!
Grandma copied this excerpt from a book Heber J. Grant gave to Papa. She keeps it on her nightstand . . .
- Question #1: How adorable is Grandma Jean?
- Question #2: Have you ever felt someone was "trailing clouds of glory"?
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Just because I'm being obnoxious and really want to win a book, I'm leaving more comments. Yes, your Grandma Jean is very adorable! And the people in my life who have trailed clouds of glory have always been my newborn babies. Even though he's five months old now, Cameron's little halo is still shiny :)
ReplyDeleteOh wait, I have more to say about poems from my childhood. I don't have any. Unless it was something I chanted while playing Chinese jump rope--remember those?
ReplyDeleteI would so much rather be the "chum" than the one they run to when they're sick. I wasn't sure if the poem was saying that was a good thing. It's not. It's really, really not.
ReplyDeletePoems from my childhood: I immediately think of Shel Silverstein. I remember my dad reading them in his exciting voices. They were silly and such a delight, yet sound poetry. I especially loved "Sarah Cynthia Silvia Stout" who would not take the garbage out. Oh, I love alliteration and all the fun aspects that come with poetry. Thanks for doing this, Anne.
ReplyDelete