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A Barren 'idealty' Post by :Blue_Eagle Category :Poems Author :George W. Doneghy Date :September 2011 Read :746

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A Barren "idealty"

This song that I sing--
It is not of a spring,
Nor yet of a silvery stream--
But of a vision bright
Which came last night
In the garb of a blissful dream--
When I thought, as I lay,
It was Thanksgiving Day,
And I was invited to dine
Where a table stood
On which everything good
Spread a feast that was almost divine!

Where the savors arose,
Right under my nose,
From turkey--and pumpkin pies;
And from jolly roast pig
Were slices as big
As some of the campaign lies!
And celery so white
'Twas a thing of delight
To bite the crisp stalks in two.
And the cranberry sauce--
Oh, I tell you 'twas boss--
And flanked by an oyster stew!

Where the bread and the cake--
The best they can bake--
Were cut into slices heroic.
And the amber ice cream
Melted into my dream
Like love to the heart of a 'poet';
And they heaped up my plate,
And I sat there and ate
Till I awoke with a yell,
And a shiver and shake
And a pain and an ache
That rudely my dream did dispel!

But dreams, as you know,
By contraries go,
And thus I fear if it will be
With the one of delight
That came last night
When I feasted so heartily;
And Thanksgiving Day
In the usual way
Will come to me, don't you see,
And the dinner I had
And the ache that was bad
Prove a----barren "idealty"!

(The end)
George W. Doneghy's poem: Barren "Idealty"

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A Cherished Relic A Cherished Relic

A Cherished Relic
In the attic, unused, there they put it away;The old oaken frame has begun to decay;What iron's about it is eaten with rust,And upon and around it are cobwebs and dust;The dear, loving hands that on it have spun,With labor and toil forever are done,And long is the time since I saw them unreelThe threads, snowy white, from the old spinning-wheel!It stood on a porch where the Summer sunshineSifted down to the floor through a clambering vine,Whose tendrils about the lattice-work clungLike my heart-strings round her, and the song that she sung;And the pictures of fancy I con o'er and o'er,Till,

Wishing--fishing Wishing--fishing

I.Full well I know that wishing never yet has brought The things that seem to us would satisfy the heart,And that anticipated pleasure, when at last 'tis caught, Has naught but transitory solace to impart;And yet, somehow, I've ever felt and thought A joy there is that never can depart--(As long as we are capable of feeling--wishing)-- And that's to leave dull care behind, and--go a-fishing!II.Some dream of wealth--of place--of fame-- And fleeting shadows vainly they pursue;And some have sighed to win a deathless name Where fields of carnage corpses thickly strew,And shrieks of agony