poem

have a good time, TO MY SON
Do you know that your soul is of my soul such part
That you seem to be fibre and core of my heart ?
None other can pain me as you ,son, can do;
None other can please me or praise me as you .
Remember the world will be quick with its blame .
If shadow or or stain ever darken your name .
Like MOTHER, Like SON ,is saying so true
The world will judge largely of Mother by you .
Be this then your task,if task it shall be ,
To force this proud world to do homage to me .
Be sure it will say, when it's verdict you've won,
she reaps as the sowed .This man is her son.


BUILDING THE BRIDGE

A pilgrim,going a lone highway
Came at evening ,cold and gray .
To a chasm , deep and vast and wide .
THE old man cross in the twlight dim.
The chasm held no fears for him
But the paused when he reached the other side
And built a bridge to span the tide.
"OLD MAN" said a fellow pilgrim near .
"why waste your time in building here?
Your journey ends with the close of day
You never again will pass this way .
You've crossed the chasm deep and wide
Why build ye here at eventide?"
The pilgrim raised his old gray head,
"My friend, in the path I've come"he said ,
"There followeth after me today .
A fair haired youth who must pass this way .
The chasm which held no fears for me .
To the fair haired youth may a pitfall be.
He,too, must cross in the twlight dim.
My friend , I am building this bridge for him.