*** A closet full of shoes

A closet full of many shoes

Is what every girl desires

It's so nice that they come in twos

Some pairs are flat while others higher

Take those boots there in the back

I wear them when it's snowing

Five pair of sandals in shades of black

For summer errand-going

I've shoes in every rainbow shade

Amassed throughout the years

Not quite up to Imelda's grade

But enough for my careers

*** Everyone Sang

Siegfried Sassoon (1886-1967)

Everyone suddenly burst out singing;

And I was filled with such delight

As prisoned birds must find in freedom,

Winging wildly across the white

Orchards and dark-green fields;

on - on - and out of sight.

Everyone's voice was suddenly lifted;

And beauty came like the setting sun:

My heart was shaken with tears;

and horror

Drifted away ... O, but Everyone Was a bird; and the song was wordless;

the singing will never be done.

*** William Butler Yeats (1865-1993)

“He wishes for the Cloths of heaven”

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

*** From a distance the world looks blue and green, and the snow-capped mountains white. From a distance the ocean meets the stream, and the eagle takes to flight. From a distance, there is harmony, and it echoes through the land. It's the voice of hope, it's the voice of peace, it's the voice of every man.

- from the lyrics for 'From A Distance' (Bette Midler)

*** The Builders of the City

Francis Duggan

You never will find their names on a memorial wall And any memories of them historians never do recall The builders of the City who lay with the unsung Many of them came from distant shores and spoke in a foreign tongue They more than earned every penny that they were ever paid The builders of the City yet little of their achievements made Devoted to the family and devoted to the wife They worked hard so their children could enjoy a better life, The builders of the City so much to them we owe Though nothing written about them and of them little we do know They built the housing estates, City buildings and City Mall Though nothing of their life achievements is ever made at all They lay the rail tracks to the City and made the Roadways through the Countryside Yet in the builders of the City we never do take pride.

*** Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

All are architects of Fate, Working in these walls of Time; Some with massive deeds and great, Some with ornaments of rhyme. Nothing useless is, or low; Each thing in its place is best; And what seems but idle show Strengthens and supports the rest. For the structure that we raise, Time is with materials filled; Our to-days and yesterdays Are the blocks with which we build. Truly shape and fashion these; Leave no yawning gaps between; Think not, because no man sees, Such things will remain unseen. In the elder days of Art, Builders wrought with greatest care

Each minute and unseen part; For the Gods see everywhere Let us do our work as well, Both the unseen and the seen; Make the house, where Gods may dwell, Beautiful, entire, and clean. Else our lives are incomplete, Standing in these walls of Time, Broken stairways, where the feet Stumble as they seek to climb. Build to-day, then, strong and sure, With a firm and ample base; And ascending and secure Shall to-morrow find its place. Thus alone can we attain To those turrets, where the eye Sees the world as one vast plain, And one boundless reach of sky.

*** Where the Sidewalk Ends

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 peppermint 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.

*** A red red rose

Robert Burns

O my Luve's like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June; O my Luve's like the melodie

That's sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a' the seas gang dry:

Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi' the sun;

I will luve thee still, my dear,

*** I Dream a world Hughes Langston

I dream a world where man No other man will scorn, Where love will bless the earth And peace its paths adorn I dream a world where all Will know sweet freedom's way, Where greed no longer saps the soul Nor avarice blights our day. A world I dream where black or white, Whatever race you be, Will share the bounties of the earth And every man is free,

Where wretchedness will hang its head And joy, like a pearl, Attends the needs of all mankind- Of such I dream, my world!

*** Dreamland Lewis Carroll

The blaze of noonday splendor, The twilight soft and tender, May charm the eye: yet they shall die, Shall die and pass away. But here, in Dreamland's centre, No spoiler's hand may enter, These visions fair, this radiance rare, Shall never pass away. I see the shadows falling, The forms of old recalling; Around me tread the mighty dead, And slowly pass away.

*** Daydreamer

I am on the passenger side,  Daydreaming to the sky The day's bright and full of life.. then In a mile, I caught your sight My heart starts beating triple times The thing that I don't know why And the bus stopped for a while Not long you're in the seat behind The music starts playing love songs I get notion to have conversation I love your eyes put in my direction,  I find my heart set in motion We talk and talk while the road seems stretched,  The time runs slow till I reached my place All was fantasy, I never noticed,  You wake me up, all eyes on my face.

*** The Legend of Alexander Graham Bell

Bogenseeberg

Your last name is important It shows you what to do This is a story of Mr Bell I'm going to tell you. His name was Mr Bell, Who invented the phone, He used to play with bells, When he was alone So, he used two small bells

In a new and strange thing That's why we always say "Phone rings", "give me a ring" If he was Mr String, he'd put a string into it And a tune of one note would be played with each beat If he added more strings, he'd create a guitar, And the music could play when the player was far. So, what would it be? It would be a ringtone Invented a century before the cell phone

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*** She Walks In Beauty

J. G. Byron

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that 's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress,

 Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express  How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,  So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow,  But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!

*** White House

Anna Akhmatova

Almost white was the house, Made of glass was the wing. How many times with numb arm Did I hold the doorbell's ring.

How many times.. play, soldiers, I'll make my house, I'll espy You from a roof that's inclined, From the ivy that does not die.

But who at last did remove it, Took away into foreign lands Or took out from the memory Forever the road thence..

Snow flies, like a cherry blossom, Distant bagpipes desist.. And, it seems like, nobody knows That the white house does not exist.

*** Anna Akhmatova

The muse has left along narrow And winding street, And with large drops of dew Were sprinkled her feet.

For long did I ask of her To wait for winter with me, But she said, "The grave is here, How can you breathe, you see?"

I wanted to give her a dove That is whiter than all the rest But the bird herself flew above After my graceful guest.

Looking at her I was silent, I loved her alone And like gates into her country In the sky stood the dawn.

*** A poison tree

William Blake

I was angry with my friend; I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow. And I waterd it in fears, Night and morning with my tears: And I sunned it with smiles, And with soft deceitful wiles. And it grew both day and night, Till it bore an apple bright. And my foe beheld it shine, And he knew that it was mine. And into my garden stole. When the night had veiled the pole; In the morning glad I see, My foe outstretchd beneath the tree

*** The Horrid Voice of Science