The Child-World
A Child-World, yet a wondrous world no less,
To those who knew its boundless happiness.
A simple old frame house--eight rooms in all--
Set just one side the center of a small
But very hopeful Indiana town,--
The upper-story looking squarely down
Upon the main street, and the main highway
From East to West,--historic in its day,
Known as The National Road--old-timers, all
Who linger yet, will happily recall
It as the scheme and handiwork, as well
As property, of 'Uncle Sam,' and tell
Of its importance, 'long and long afore
Railroads wuz ever _dreamp_' of!'--Furthermore,
The reminiscent first Inhabitants
Will make that old road blossom with romance
Of snowy caravans, in long parade
Of covered vehicles, of every grade
From ox-cart of most primitive design,
To Conestoga wagons, with their fine
Deep-chested six-horse teams, in heavy gear,
High names and chiming bells--to childish ear
And eye entrancing as the glittering train
Of some sun-smitten pageant of old Spain.
And, in like spirit, haply they will tell
You of the roadside forests, and the yell
Of 'wolfs' and 'painters,' in the long night-ride,
And 'screechin' catamounts' on every side.--
Of stagecoach-days, highwaymen, and strange crimes,
And yet unriddled mysteries of the times
Called 'Good Old.' 'And why 'Good Old'?' once a rare
Old chronicler was asked, who brushed the hair
Out of his twinkling eyes and said,--'Well John,
They're 'good old times' because they're dead and gone!'
The old home site was portioned into three
Distinctive lots. The front one--natively
Facing to southward, broad and gaudy-fine
With lilac, dahlia, rose, and flowering vine--
The dwelling stood in; and behind that, and
Upon the alley north and south, left hand,
The old wood-house,--half, trimly stacked with wood,
And half, a work-shop, where a workbench stood
Steadfastly through all seasons.--Over it,
Along the wall, hung compass, brace-and-bit,
And square, and drawing-knife, and smoothing-plane--
And little jack-plane, too--the children's vain
Possession by pretense--in fancy they
Manipulating it in endless play,
Turning out countless curls and loops of bright,
Fine satin shavings--Rapture infinite!
Shelved quilting-frames; the toolchest; the old box
Of refuse nails and screws; a rough gun-stock's
Outline in 'curly maple'; and a pair
Of clamps and old krout-cutter hanging there.
Some 'patterns,' in thin wood, of shield and scroll,
Hung higher, with a neat 'cane-fishing-pole'
And careful tackle--all securely out
Of reach of children, rummaging about.
Beside the wood-house, with broad branches free
Yet close above the roof, an apple-tree
Known as 'The Prince's Harvest'--Magic phrase!
That was _a boy's own tree_, in many ways!--
Its girth and height meet both for the caress
Of his bare legs and his ambitiousness:
And then its apples, humoring his whim,
Seemed just to fairly _hurry_ ripe for him--
Even in June, impetuous as he,
They dropped to meet him, halfway up the tree.
And O their bruised sweet faces where they fell!--
And ho! the lips that feigned to 'kiss them _well_'!
'The Old Sweet-Apple-Tree,' a stalwart, stood
In fairly sympathetic neighborhood
Of this wild princeling with his early gold
To toss about so lavishly nor hold
In bounteous hoard to overbrim at once
All Nature's lap when came the Autumn months.
Under the spacious shade of this the eyes
Of swinging children saw swift-changing skies
Of blue and green, with sunshine shot between,
And 'when the old cat died' they saw but green.
And, then, there was a cherry-tree.--We all
And severally will yet recall
From our lost youth, in gentlest memory,
The blessed fact--There was a cherry-tree.
There was a cherry-tree. Its bloomy snows
Cool even now the fevered sight that knows
No more its airy visions of pure joy--
As when you were a boy.
There was a cherry-tree. The Bluejay set
His blue against its white--O blue as jet
He seemed there then!--But _now_--Whoever knew
He was so pale a blue!
There was a cherry-tree--Our child-eyes saw
The miracle:--Its pure white snows did thaw
Into a crimson fruitage, far too sweet
But for a boy to eat.
There was a cherry-tree, give thanks and joy!--
There was a bloom of snow--There was a boy--
There was a Bluejay of the realest blue--
And fruit for both of you.
Then the old garden, with the apple-trees
Grouped 'round the margin, and 'a stand of bees'
By the 'white-winter-pearmain'; and a row
Of currant-bushes; and a quince or so.
The old grape-arbor in the center, by
The pathway to the stable, with the sty
Behind it, and _upon_ it, cootering flocks
Of pigeons, and the cutest 'martin-box'!--
Made like a sure-enough house--with roof, and doors
And windows in it, and veranda-floors
And balusters all 'round it--yes, and at
Each end a chimney--painted red at that
And penciled white, to look like little bricks;
And, to cap all the builder's cunning tricks,
Two tiny little lightning-rods were run
Straight up their sides, and twinkled in the sun.
Who built it? Nay, no answer but a smile.--
It _may_ be you can guess who, afterwhile.
Home in his stall, 'Old Sorrel' munched his hay
And oats and corn, and switched the flies away,
In a repose of patience good to see,
And earnest of the gentlest pedigree.
With half pathetic eye sometimes he gazed
Upon the gambols of a colt that grazed
Around the edges of the lot outside,
And kicked at nothing suddenly, and tried
To act grown-up and graceful and high-bred,
But dropped, _k'whop!_ and scraped the buggy-shed,
Leaving a tuft of woolly, foxy hair
Under the sharp-end of a gate-hinge there.
Then, all ignobly scrambling to his feet
And whinneying a whinney like a bleat,
He would pursue himself around the lot
And--do the whole thing over, like as not!...
Ah! what a life of constant fear and dread
And flop and squawk and flight the chickens led!
Above the fences, either side, were seen
The neighbor-houses, set in plots of green
Dooryards and greener gardens, tree and wall
Alike whitewashed, and order in it all:
The scythe hooked in the tree-fork; and the spade
And hoe and rake and shovel all, when laid
Aside, were in their places, ready for
The hand of either the possessor or
Of any neighbor, welcome to the loan
Of any tool he might not chance to own.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Related quotes
Sad And In Site Happy And Hidden
i know of a world of
magic
a world of war and hatred
where there's no room for peace
this world is hidden but lay in plane sight
this world caused me darkness and nearly ended my life
but i found a voice on the wind one that told me to fly
fly away to a world of peace one hidden in side
so now i go throw the world full of hate but i still wear a smile
this world of happiness lays in every child
the world of hate is the world we live
and happiness a child's gift
when we find who we are we learn this gift again
poem by Tony Atkins
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Peaceful World
Hey yeah
Hey yeah
Hey yeah
Hey yeah
Hey yeah
Hey yeah
Come on baby take a ride with me
Im up from indiana down to tennessee
Everything is cool as can be in a peaceful world
People know this world is a wreck
Were sick and tired of being politically correct
I see through it now but I didnt at first
The hipocrites made it worse and worse
Lookin down their noses at what people say
These are just words and words are okay
Its what you do and not what you say
If youre not part of the future then get out of the way
Come on baby take a ride with me
Im up from indiana down to tennessee
Everything is cool as can be in a peaceful world
Hey yeah
Hey yeah
Hey yeah
Racism lives in the u.s.a.
Get hip to what martin luther did have to say
I dont want my kids being brought up this way
Hatred to each other is not okay
Well Im not a preacher just a singer son
I can see more work to be done
Its what you do and not what you say
If youre not part of the future then get out of the way
Come on baby take a ride with me
Im up from indiana down to tennessee
Everything is cool as can be in a peaceful world
Lay back the top and ride with me
Im up from indiana down to tennessee
Everything is cool as can be
In a peaceful world
The moneys good and the works ok
Looks like everything is rolling our way
Til you gotta look the devil in the eye
You know that bastards one big lie
So be careful with your heart and what you love
Make sure that it was sent from above
Its what you do and not what you say
If youre not part of the future then get out of the way
Come on baby take a ride with me
Im up from indiana down to tennessee
Everything is cool as can be in a peaceful world
Lay back the top and ride with me
Im up from indiana down to tennessee
Everything is cool as can be
In a peaceful world
Hey yeah
Hey yeah
Hey yeah
Hey yeah
Hey yeah
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Eyes of a Child
When I was young
so very small
the world was a huge place of wonder
it was a vast universe of endless possibility
then I grew old, so very tired
and I knew what it was all about
the love ran cold
the heart not so bold
the limits began to show their ugly heads
the eyes of the child still remain
I still look at the world the same
even with jaded glasses
Are you still a child
with dreams run wild
or have you given up on all?
Summon your will,
the child remains with you still
and as we know
a child will lead us.
poem by Samael Wolf
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The Small Smiling Child
THE SMALL SMILING CHILD IN HER MOTHER'S ARMS
The small smiling child
in her mother's arms
Is the hope of the world
The small smiling child
Is he happiness of this life
The small smiling child is the Hope and Happiness
of us all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Small World
Children seem to have no choice
The children have got no voice
Theyre merely living to grow old
Letting their days unfold
And its time that you and i
Realised that by and by
These children grow up into men
It is clear what we must do
What the lord has told us to
Give our brothers a chance
To be born again
Its a small world, a small world
When you see it through
A pair of haitian eyes
Its a small world, a small world
When the dreams you dream
Melt into haitian skies
Its just not good enough to say
That the troubles too far away
Cos the little that you need to give
Could help a little child to live
Help them live a little longer
Help them grow a little stronger
So why not play a part
If youre ever gonna do
What the lord has told us to
Its got to begin within your heart
Its a small world, a small world
When you reach out and touch
A stranger
From where you stand
Its a small world, a small world
When you can forge another link
In a far off land
Repeat last two lines
Its a small world, a small world
When you can forge another link
In a far off land
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Never hesitate to leave
Never hesitate to leave!
I would never hesitate to leave this world
If my child is in danger or slips out of fold
“Mother would go to any extent” I was told
As certain things are totally free and not sold
I am totally aware that child needs total care
Some of the mother hide it and don’t dare
But what a joy on earth to feel while feeding
Pain mattered less at the time of delivery while bleeding
Each one of us may be dreaming about nice creature
As lots of expectations and dreams for making sure
What a child may bring in for our future life?
How do I feel about it as mother and wife!
My blood is directly flowing in his vanes
Lot many unsaid things are reflected as tales
But whole of world seems so tiny or small
When I hear baby’s cry or simple call
Let all babies get simple care from mother
All happiness with so much dedication and care
It is said child remembers mother when best fed
So later on holds hand of mother and leads
Whole world seems to me a tiny object
If I am to choose I will certainly reject
What a beautiful smile when I start feeding
All so more important satisfaction by her needing
I look at that curly hair
Everything looks so fair
How can I think of going somewhere?
When heaven and happiness is all here
I would love to sink when time comes
I won’t bother whether child later on welcomes or not
At present I see best part on feeding
It is the best present after my wedding
Many mothers may think it as absurd
But it is mother’s love with caring word
Sincere prayer along with it for her well being
My gesture will be after all less of doing
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Smile Of A Small Child
THE SMILE OF A SMALL CHILD
The smile of a small child
Lights the world-
Hope and happiness come again-
The smile of a small child
And we smile again also.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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This Lost World In Darkness
I HATE THIS WORLD, I WANT A WORLD OF MY WISH
I WANT A WORLD OF MY SOUL LIKE,
I WANT A WORLD WITH NO BLOOD SHED,
I WANT A WORLD WITHOUT THE TERROR,
I WANT A WORLD WITHOUT THE FALSE PRAISE N LOVE,
I WANT A WORLD OF TRUE HOPE N LOVE,
I WANT A WORLD OF ANGELS TO SHOWER HAPPINESS,
I WANT A WORLD OF HAPPINESS,
I WANT A WORLD OF TRUE FRNDSHIP,
I WANT A WORLD WITHOUT THE FAKES,
I WANT A WORLD WHICH IS OF MY WAY,
I WANT TO CHANGE THIS WORLD,
I WANT A WORLD OF MIRACLE,
I WANT A WORLD OF MERCY,
I WANT A WORLD TO SHOW TRUE COLOURS OF LIFE,
I WANT A WORLD WITH A EALTHY COMPETITION,
I WANT A WORLD WITH NO COMPLICATION,
I WANT A WORLD WITH ALL THESE FANTASIES,
I WANT A WORLD OF IMPECCABILITY,
I WANT THIS WAY,
I HOPE THIS WAY IS MY WORLD
poem by Sindhuja Setti
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I met the girl with the world inside her head
I met the girl with the world inside her head
She said “ it will be safe there”
And I just knew that I could trust her
I met the father of the girl with the world inside her head
He said “I gave her the world because I made her a promise”
And I just had to look up to him
I met the mother of the girl with the world inside her head
She told me that she had married the right man
And it sounded like she always knew she would
I took the girl with the world inside her head to the next town
She told me “ I feel I must close me eyes and I must not listen”
And we sat in silence
I married the girl with the world inside her head
We lived a perfect life
And I just knew it would turn out that way
I fathered the child of the girl with the world inside her head
I am reassured that our child will be safe with us
And I never really imagined anything different
I looked upon the mother who gave everything to the child
Until the day she died
Until the day the child asked for the world
In grief I looked upon the world and cursed it
poem by Lindsay Crosby
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Hymn 99
Stones made children of Abraham.
Matt. 3:9.
Vain are the hopes that rebels place
Upon their birth and blood,
Descended from a pious race;
Their fathers now with God.
He from the caves of earth and hell
Can take the hardest stones,
And fill the house of Abram well
With new-created sons.
Such wondrous power doth he possess
Who formed our mortal frame,
Who called the world from emptiness,
The world obeyed and came.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Kokomo
Mmmmmmm
In a small fishing village
Northeast of guam
Sits a fine young chap
Holding hands with his mom
As the fish swim by
So does joe
For his body is in guam
But his mind is in kokomo
Kokomo, indiana
Kokomo, indiana
Mmmmmmmm
I long to be
Inside my home
Where the rafters are thick
With mens cologne
Mens cologne
For if I were a tree
I know where I would grow
But my body is in guam
My mind is in kokomo
Kokomo, indiana
Kokomo, indiana
Mmmmmmmm
Its a large swimming pool
That will light up at night
With cigarette girl
And groom dressed in white
Dressed in white
As the organ plays a song
The crowd doesnt know
For their bodies are in guam
But their minds are in kokomo.
Kokomo, indiana
Kokomo, indiana
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Imaginary
The imaginary power takes over the world, and the people in it.
Making minute things important, and important things unnecessary.
And so the world turns.
The imaginary status places and artificial happiness over the world, and the people in it.
Creating avoidable conflicts to arise at new magnitudes.
And so the world turns.
The imaginary wealth controls the world, and the people in it.
Presenting new desirable ideas to replace the already insufficient ones.
And so the world turns.
The imaginary need drives selfishness in the world, and the people in it.
Allowing happiness, fear, and lust to lead their lives.
And so the world turns.
This world is unfortunately not imaginary,
Going day to day with imaginary things at the center of the lives of all.
Soon the world will no longer turn.
poem by Kaitlin Schmidt
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A touch of happiness
Could I ever have the happiness
of those who cannot walk
having a first step even if small?
Could I ever have the happiness
of those unsighted feeling
shadows for the first time?
Could I have the happiness
of music heard by one who
hear no sound?
Could I have the happiness
of the hungry parent
able to feed a child?
Could I have the happiness
of ones who after hard falls
finds no more holes?
......................................... ...........................
Did we forgot how to appreciate what we have, the small things, have we forgotten our priorities? ..Do we really need to gain a big loss for the chance to touch happiness?
What
IS
Happiness? ?
poem by Elena Sandu
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My Childhood World Was Once The Only World
My childhood world was once the only world
Years later when it exists only in my memory
It has become one of many worlds the Jewish people have known
In their long journey-
Its idiom and characters its look and its feel
Its small dreams and distinct languages
Are gone-
All I thought once the whole of the real world
Is only a small part of what has gone on far longer than it
And all these worlds together too
Are not the whole of the universe –
Yet my memory of this world makes it larger and larger
And for me still it is in the center of space and time –
One day soon when I am gone
No one will know it as I have-
Some traces of it will remain in the minds of other witnesses
And when they are gone
This world too will have only a remnant of it
Remaining as words.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Thoughts at a Zoo
Tiny, brown, innocent eyes
that have only seen the world for a year
peer over the cheep, run-down wood
as gentle, yet clumsy fingers
perch on layers of dirt.
A child never cares much
for the unseen: germs, problems
beyond their own limited knowledge.
They only care for wondrous
things, new things to them,
yet so old and dull to us:
a spotted leaf, a ray of sunlight.
When is it that we lose
the eyes of a child?
The trust of innocence?
At what age to we lose
the need to see a caged animal
or ride a reckety red train?
What has to happen before
our eyes for us to lose
that childhood ignorance
that makes the world so simple?
When do we lose this curiosity
that makes the world so bright?
poem by Zoe Guillory
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Happiness Is Not Comforts
‘Does Happiness depend upon comfort? ’
The answer is definitely a big, ‘No! ’
Happiness lies in not comforts alone!
Happiness is not a static quality of the human mind, body and soul.
All can’t remain happy all the time.
It would be foolishness to wish for a life, filled with happiness alone;
Happiness is more when woes come in-between.
Happiness is just a feeling weird!
Life could become boring and monotonous, when happiness is prolonged.
Even the pauper can be happier than the prince.
Even the beggar smiles and sleeps well, despite much strife.
Happiness is a frame of mind that’s dynamic in nature;
Happiness is a kind of mood of feeling very well;
Happiness is a state of one, when life seems worth living;
Happiness is something strange that varies with time, experience and wisdom.
Happiness is all within;
Happiness is in giving;
Happiness is in sharing;
Happiness is the ceiling, whatever you fix!
Happiness does not wholly depend on comforts;
Happiness cannot be bought by money;
Happiness is not all luxury;
Happiness is abstract to the core!
Happiness is in being child-like, though adult;
Happiness is in making and seeing the less fortunate ones, smile;
Happiness is in acting adult-like, although a child
Happiness is in giving something to someone, although you still need it.
Happiness is in sacrificing for others’ sake;
Happiness is in giving up your chance to someone, who most needs it;
Happiness is in doing acts of charity;
Happiness is when you’ve led a righteous life.
Happiness to some is in dreams alone;
Happiness to some doing risky feats;
Happiness to a few is in a sheer lazy life;
Happiness to some is in yeoman service to mankind.
Happiness is a phenomenon;
Happiness is a quirk of fate;
Happiness is quite rare and scarce at times;
Happiness to some is in living in a virtual world!
Happiness is in braving the storms of life;
Happiness is in toiling for others’ sakes;
Happiness is in sharing your talents and ken;
Happiness is in loving your poor brethren.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-15-2008
poem by John Celes
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Why Children?
Why children occupy our full attention
We daily talk about and make mention
Wherever we go we carry some impression
Always praise with happiness and nice expressions
Some of the childless families miss the opportunity
It is divine gift offered to us with fine quality
So many couples may be offering prayers to have child
They may consider themselves unlucky and blind
Almighty has done fairly well for all human beings
The happiness desce4nds and bell rings
The child’s arrival is accepted with grace
So much happiness is seen on the face
One simple smile from child makes our life beautiful
Whole world seems to be within our reach and looks full
What is missing in our life thereafter?
Nothing else, only happiness and bursting into laughter
How a dropp of rain can bring life to seed?
How a soul comes into being and really freed?
What a lovely life when comes to play a role?
Intimacy with all and breathing as noble soul
What do we make thereafter in real world?
Love to live with love or create hate fold
Drag every one in new strategy to cheat
Consider it milestone and great feat
We abuse the child and push them to one side
We force their destiny and compulsorily decide
The perceptional difference is very wide
We sometimes don’t take precaution to hide
Let us not undermine importance of children
They are like messiahs and flowers even
What do we expect from their innocence?
Make life so lovely in their presence
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Seeker
I sought for my happiness over the world,
Oh, eager and far was my quest;
I sought it on mountain and desert and sea,
I asked it of east and of west.
I sought it in beautiful cities of men,
On shores that were sunny and blue,
And laughter and lyric and pleasure were mine
In palaces wondrous to view;
Oh, the world gave me much to my plea and my prayer
But never I found aught of happiness there!
Then I took my way back to a valley of old
And a little brown house by a rill,
Where the winds piped all day in the sentinel firs
That guarded the crest of the hill;
I went by the path that my childhood had known
Through the bracken and up by the glen,
And I paused at the gate of the garden to drink
The scent of sweet-briar again;
The homelight shone out through the dusk as of yore
And happiness waited for me at the door!
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Eye's Of A Child
Through the eyes of a child
the world is grand
playing at the beach building castles of sand
Through the eyes of a child
the world is a wonder
on a stormy night hidden under the blankets scared of the thunder
Through the eyes of a child
the world is fascinating from the stars in the sky to natures sounds resonating
Through the eyes of a child
life has no time frame an endless mystery in a puzzle game
Through the eyes of the adult it all fades away
we live life so fast another hectic day
taking for granted our eyes of a child
now close them tight and as you open them let you imagination run wild.
poem by Robin McGuigan
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The Houses
1898 -- A Song of the Dominions
'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house -- kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.
'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house -- friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house -- King counselling King.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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