In my by book, Raj the Bookstore Tiger, Raj is saved from certain doldrums by the reading of a snippet of the poem by William Blake. In a contest held at Kids Buzz and on my own mailing list, I asked readers to send me snippets from their favorite poems. I share some of them with you here:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,
I know why the caged bird sings: because it know it was born to FLY!! –Maya Angelou
Will there really be a “Morning”?
Is there such a thing as “Day”?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?
Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Oh which I have never heard?
Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor!
Oh some Wise Man from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called “Morning” lies!
-Emily Dickinson Will There Really be a “Morning”?
“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.” –Robert Frost
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor. –Alfred Noyes
Sent by Betty Henne:
“To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee.
The revery alone will do
if bees are fee. –Emily Dickinson
Sent by Tanya Dynda:
“Tyger, tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?” –William Blake
Sent by Cindy Murphy:
“Whose child is this?” I asked again
As the door opened and someone came in
“Mine,” said the teacher with the same tender smile
“Mine, to keep just for a little while
To teach him how to be gentle and kind
To train and direct his dear little mind
To help him live by every rule
And get the best he can from school” –Author Unknown
Sent by Barbara Winter:
“Anyone or anything
That does not bring you alive
Is too small for you. –David Whyte
My own favorite….or one of them:
“I will arise and go now, for always, night and day,
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore,
While I stand on the roadway or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.” –W.B. Yeats