Thursday, February 12, 2015

In Time for St. Valentine's Day

Rendezvous

By Ernestine Cobern Beyer

When Himself's behind his paper and
the childer sleepin' sound,
And the moon's a winkin' lantern
throwin' shadows all around,
Forsakin' fire and hearthstone, down
the Way of Dreams I start
To meet my darlin' truelove in a
corner of my heart.

His voice is like the west-wind when
it whispers low and sweet,
His words are like the poppies that be
growin' in the wheat.
I forget the bangin' shutters and the
candle's sleepy stare,
When I meet my laughin' truelove where
he's waitin' for me there.

When Himself has grown a-weary
in the cozy evening tide,
A ghost it is that follows him and
settles at his side.
I'll be so true and faithful that he'll
never know, shall he,
I go to meet the laughin' lad, the
lad he used to be! 


Originally published on this blog, with permission from Barbara Beyer Malley, on 2/13/07. 

Birthington's Washday

By Ernestine Cobern Beyer

Birthington Biddle (his friends called him Bertie)
Would have been nice if he hadn't been dirty.
So grubby and grimy was Birthington's face,
His appearance, alas, was a perfect disgrace.

You see, he believed soap and water were poison,
And tubs were for clothes--not to wash little boys in.
Crusted with dust which flew up from the street,
He grew heavier, daily, and slower of feet.

And though his poor mother could hardly endure him,
She couldn't, it seemed, either change him or cure him.
On the day he turned ten, Bertie found to his shame,
He could no longer run or take part in a game.

Just one final cinder, just one speck of dust
Had at last overburdened the weight of his crust.
Yes sir, one speck had stopped Bert in his track
Just as one final straw broke the poor camel's back.

Unable to move, Bertie let out a yelp . . .
A mud-smothered holler: "Help, Mother, help, help!
Mrs. Biddle came running, and seizing a hose,
She hastily soused him from cowlick to toes.

The water gushed out in a glorious squirt,
And merrily melted his coating of dirt.
Thank goodness, that crust which had made him look fat
Was banished forever in two minutes flat!

His mother was filled with unspeakable joy
As she gazed at her clean little, lean little boy.
This was a day she would never forget--
His birthday! The day Dirty Bertie got wet!

That gurgle-and-slosh day, that sputter-and-splosh day,
Known in the village as Birthington's Washday!
 

Many thanks as always, to
Barbara Beyer Malley
for permission to post. =)

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Solomon's Travels

By Ernestine Cobern Beyer

Solomon Solomon lived in
a house
Whose little red roof had a leak;
Its dusty old shutters were gusty with mutters,
Its gate had a shivery squeak.

No stranger or friend ever entered his door,
Which suited old Solomon, quite;
Alone (but not lonely) he did one thing only,
He read to himself day and night.

One evening, it chanced as he sat in his bed,
Propped up in his quilt with a tale,
A rumble and mumble and ominous grumble
Announced an incredible gale!
It loosened the shutters, it toppled the gate,
It hoisted the trees from the lawn!
It swooped like a giant, rip-roaring, defiant,
And scattered things hither and yon!

But Solomon Solomon chuckled and crowed
And read to himself with delight,
So he failed to perceive when his chimney took leave
And his roof sailed away like a kite!

Nor did he observe when the wind picked him up
Where he rested so cozy and warm,
And blew him, unheeding (still placidly reading!),
Aloft on the wings of the storm!

Above his abode the good gentleman rode
Unconscious of tremors and jars;
In nightcap and tassel, past cottage and castle,
He happily headed for Mars!

The crowd was excited, the blue jays affrighted,
As Solomon (reading) flew by;
And the eagles and hawks with imperious squawks
Disputed his right to the sky!

The Milky Way curdled as over he hurdled!
Astronomers, finding his range,
In awe and surprise opened scholarly eyes
At the sight of a comet so strange!

But just about day, when the wind died away,
He started a sudden descent!
Without worry or care he tobogganed the air,
Turning a page as he went.

Yes, head over heels Mr. Solomon fell,
And contrary heels over head,
Until with a flip he concluded his trip,
Somersaulting right back into bed!


Then yawning and stretching, he murmured: "Ho-hum!
What a stay-at-home body I be!"
And closing his book with a faraway look,
"I wish I could travel!" said he.





With thanks to

Ernestine's daughter,

Barbara Beyer Malley,

for

permission to post:)

A Little Known Treasure














I found out about in time for Valentine's Day =)

The book Happy Animal Families,
by Ernestine Cobern Beyer.

Thanks as always to Ernestine's daughter Barbara Beyer Malley from Tears and Laughter at 90, for the info.

If you click on the link to Amazon, check out the customer images - they're two ever-so-slightly different covers... Originally posted 2/8/12

Sunday, December 22, 2013

An Interview with Joseph Pearce

via Ink Desk.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Omigoodness...

...going to have to remember to update soon!

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Hi Thomas

Thank you so much for changing your settings but I still can't comment on your website. But I'm glad to have the link! God bless you † rhapsody

YouTube - Joseph Pearce's Conversion, clip 1







Thanks to theRochester Chesterton Society,

& an excellent tip from Peter,


who commented over @


The Blog of the American Chesterton Society.


Originally published 11/9/07.

YouTube - Joseph Pearce's Conversion - clip 2













Many thanks to the
Rochester Chesterton Society,


for their excellent work:-)


Originally published 11/9/07.

Friday, November 01, 2013

Just want to say...

Hi Thomas! I stopped by your site - I think it's Tumblr? I don't have that, so I couldn't post. But I did want to say hi to you because I'm hardly ever on over here - although I should remember to update periodically. Anyway, hope all is well with you! =) rhapsody

Wednesday, October 09, 2013

by G. K. Chesterton



















Gold Leaves

Lo! I am come to autumn,
When all the leaves are gold;

Grey hairs and golden leaves cry out

The year and I are old.


In youth I sought the prince of men,

Captain in cosmic wars,

Our Titan, even weeds would show

Defiant, to the stars.


But now a great thing in the street

Seems any human nod,

Where shift in strange democracy

The million masks of God.


In youth I sought the golden flower

Hidden in wood or wold,

But I am come to autumn,When all the leaves are gold.
Originally posted 11/4/07

I think that...

poor Meranda was going to get a chill... Time to update. =)

CVA

Pier One

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