O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.


O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills; 10
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths--for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.


My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won; 20
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

Walt Whitman

When my boat does start to sink,
I do not fear or start to think.
I put my trust in God on high,
And tht is when I learn to fly.
My boat may be lost but I'm found,
With God spirit all around.
I keep my eyes on God above,
And trust in his endless love.
I hide his words within my heart,
And with each day I let it start.
I say my prayers both night and day,
And wait for God to show the way.
He will show me where to go,
As his love does ever show.
In my heart he plants a seed,
That does fill my every need.
On his name I will call,
Whenever I do start to fall.
He lifts me up and stands by me,
So from this world I now am free.

  Hark! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic'd flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise! 

William Shakespeare

When my day comes to an end,
I call on God his rest to sent.
I lie down and close my eyes,
And listen for my Masters cry.
If he calls I want to hear,
So I can sleep without any fear.
I go to sleep within his arms,
And he does keep me safe and warm.
I don't care what others have to say,
God is the Master of my day.
He will show me what is right,
And he'll protect me through the night.
He will wake me when the day is new,
As he opens the flowers too.
He does help the birds to sing,
and lifts my heart on angels wings.
My heart it is so full of love,
For my savior up above.
My soul it cannot tough the ground,
With his spirit all around.
I may pass through this world below,
But it is his love that I will show.
One day soon I'll live on high,
As my spirit starts to fly.
I will reach my final rest,
And know that heaven is the best.
As I pass the crystal shore,
Then step through the open door.
There I'll see Jesus face to face,
And thank him for his love and grace.

Rusty Jones

Summer rain
is soft and cool,
so I go barefoot
in a pool.
But winter rain
is cold, and pours,
so I must watch it
from indoors

Myra Cohn Livingstone

They leave us so to the way we took,
As two in whom them were proved mistaken,
That we sit sometimes in the wayside nook,
With michievous, vagrant, seraphic look,
And try if we cannot feel forsaken.

Robert Frost

Two doors they placed in front of me,
Made of wood so all could see.
THey said Heaven was behind door one,
But inside was not God's only son.
While others may choose to pick door two,
Did this door live and die for you.
So I'll take the door that's one in three,
For God the son did die for me.
As God the father waits on high,
And listens for us up in up in the sky.
He listens for when we start to call,
Then sends his spirit to fill us all.
Now I choose the way, the truth, the light,
As I trust his word to show what's right.
So I chose my savior's open door,
And I'll live to praise him forevermore.

Rusty Jones

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.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

by Shel Silverstein

Before man came to blow it right
The wind once blew itself untaught,
And did its loudest day and night
In any rough place where it caught.

Man came to tell it what was wrong:
It hadn't found the place to blow;
It blew too hard--the aim was song.
And listen--how it ought to go!

He took a little in his mouth,
And held it long enough for north
To be converted into south,
And then by measure blew it forth.

By measure. It was word and note,
The wind the wind had meant to be--
A little through the lips and throat.
The aim was song--the wind could see.

Robert Frost

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.
And the eyes of those two Indian ponies
Darken with kindness.
They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.
We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.
They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come.
They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other.
There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,
They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.
I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to me
And nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,
Her mane falls wild on her forehead,
And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.
Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break
Into blossom.
James Wright