Forget-me-not

A. Moore

When to the flowers so beautiful,
The Father gave a name,
Back came a little blue-eyed one,
So timidly it came

And hurrying to the Father's feet,
And gazing in his face it said,
"Dear Lord, the name thou gavest me
I have forgot."

Kindly the Master looked him down
and said, "Forget-me-not."

The Violet

Jane Taylor

Down in the green and shady bed
A modest violet grew;
Its stalk was bent, it hung its head
As if to hide from view.

And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its color bright and fair;
It might have graced a rosy bower,
Instead of hiding there.

Yet thus it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;
And there diffused a sweet perfume,
Within the silent shade.

Then let me to the valley go
This pretty flower to see;
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility.

God's Gift

Author Unknown

The beauty of nature,
man and the land,
God's sweet creations
that come from His hand

Birds and butterflies,
a breath of fresh air,
as felt by the heart
God is always there.

You can feel His presence
in the forest and trees,
while on the right path
a warm gentle breeze.

A variety of flowers,
their beauty divine,
a blessing on earth
that comes as a sign.

When out among nature
be thankful for much,
for the greatest gifts
are of heavenly touch.

Autumn

Author Unknown

'Tis autumn now; the corn is cut,
But other gifts for us are spread,
The purple plum, the ripe brown nut,
And pears and apples, streaked with red,

Among the dark green branches shine,
Or on the grass beneath them fall;
While full green clusters deck the vine
That trails o'er trellis, roof, and wall.

In our dear land the laden trees
Be-speak God's providence and love;
He sends all needful gifts like these
For those who trust in Him above.

How good is He to make such choice
Of pleasant fruits for us to grow!
'Tis meet, indeed, that we rejoice
In Him who loves His children so.

Sometimes The Sky Belongs To Me

Elizabeth Santos

Sometimes the sky belongs to me
And wraps me in infinity
Sometimes it turns the other way
And hides itself in clouds of gray

Some days the sun consoles my fears
And lifts the wetness of my tears
Some nights the stars and moon embrace
The sorrow written on my face

And lay a sheet of silken weave
Upon the pillow where I grieve
When stars have nowhere else to be
Sometimes the sky belongs to me

Wind On The Hill

A. A. Milne

No one can tell me,
Nobody knows,
Where the wind comes from,
Where the wind goes.

It's flying from somewhere
As fast as it can,
I couldn't keep up with it,
Not if I ran.

But if I stopped holding
The string of my kite,
It would blow with the wind
For a day and a night.

And then when I found it,
Wherever it blew,
I should know that the wind
Had been going there too.

So then I could tell them
Where the wind goes
But where the wind comes from
Nobody knows.