The Song of The Samaritan Woman

He stood alone at the well, and then

He saw me come--cast off by men.

 

My once proud visage was now brought low;

My heart was heavy, its tale was woe.

 

Forsaken,

abandoned,

rejected,

alone.

 

I saw Him then, by the well he stood;

His face was kind, His eyes were good.

I wondered then, I did not know

Who He really was--did it show?

 

He asked me for water--I wondered why;

He was a Jew, Samaritan was I.

 

It was then He told me what seemed so odd:

"You'd ask Me for water--if you knew the gift of God.

 

"And I would give it--the very best,

Living water, to give you rest."

 

This was confusing--He had no pail

To draw the water out of the well.

 

So I asked Him how, and He answered more

And we kept talking, while the day wore.

 

He told me everything I ever did!

I was amazed, and so I said:

 

"We know the Messiah will come someday,

"I am sure that He'll show us the way."

 

He gave a smile and  looked at me:

"I who speak to you am He."

 

 

Please don't steal this, I wrote it. Thank you!

Piano Bookworm

Grandfather's clock

I thought that I would post a poem today. I did not write it, but I really like it.This is also a song with a beautiful tune.

My grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf,

So it stood ninety years on the floor;

It was taller by half than the old man himself,

Though it weighed not a pennyweight more.

It was bought on the morn of the day that he was born

And was always his treasure and pride,

But it stopped short--never to go again--

When the old man died.

 

Chorus:

Ninety years without slumbering--

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

His life seconds numbering--

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

It stopped short--never to go again--

When the old man died.

 

In watching its pendulum swing to and fro

Many hours he had spent as a boy;

And in childhood and manhood the clock seemed to know

And to share in his grief and his joy,

For it struck twenty-four when he entered the door

With a blooming and beautiful bride,

But it stopped short--never to go again--

When the old man died.

 

My grandfather said that of those he could hire,

Not a servant so faithful he found,

For it wasted no time and had but one desire--

At the end of each week to be wound.

And it kept in its place--not a frown upon its face,

And its hands never hung by its side;

But it stopped short--never to go again--

When the old man died.

 

It rang an alarm in the dead of the night--

An alarm that for years had been dumb.

And we knew the his spirit was pluming for flight,

That his hour for departure had come.

Still the clock kept the time with a soft and muffled chime

As we silently stood by his side;

But it stopped short--never to go again--

When the old man died.

 

Ninety years without slumbering--

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

His life seconds numbering--

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

It stopped short--never to go again--

When the old man died.

 

By Henry Clay Work

 

 

Isn't  it  a wonderful poem?

 

 









A Poem

This is a poem I wrote. Does it need a story?

"Fair sir, thou art far from home, I ween,

Wherefore art thou rushing, canst thou not have seen

The great fire that lights up the northern sky?

Surely you know to go on is to die?"

 

"Be quiet, thou varlet, and in haste let me go!

Thou'st never met villain, nor fought a dread foe.

I go to find him that hast set that great fire..

If I am too late, then knights are the squires.

 

For that is the work of an army, I trow,

And even now  brave men are fighting the foe.

'Tis fated that none will believe this dread fact,

Unless I come soon, and tell that one has broken the pact."

 

Then the peasant let knight go,  and onward he flew

Towards the great fire, and the cold night wind blew.

And the peasant, face ashen, returned to his home,

Where his family lay sleeping, unaware of this doom.