tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700555217961835254.post3293879099884485091..comments2024-03-25T08:09:55.867+00:00Comments on Grace Notes: MARINA xiiiDavid C Brownhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08891468618584742601noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3700555217961835254.post-34947421046463147562009-12-06T02:40:46.719+00:002009-12-06T02:40:46.719+00:00dear david..this poem about the bees and the polle...dear david..this poem about the bees and the pollen is so great!<br />the bees and their hard labour bring such good to the world, eh?<br />every day my husband take his bee pollen and it has so many vitamens!<br />yes the bees do good, making sweet honey.<br />mom golden always tells us "you draw more flies with honey than with vinegar." <br /><br />you know david, your poem reminded me of this poem that i read years ago when i was a teen ager. it is a little long but quite interesting.<br /><br />The Calf Path<br />by S.W. Foss<br /><br />One day, through the primeval wood,<br />A calf walked home, as good calves should; <br /><br />But made a trail all bent askew, <br />A crooked trail as all calves do. <br /><br />Since then three hundred years have fled, <br />And, I infer, the calf is dead. <br /><br />But still he left behind his trail, <br />And thereby hangs my moral tale. <br /><br />The trail was taken up next day, <br />By a lone dog that passed that way. <br /><br />And then a wise bell-wether sheep, <br />Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep; <br /><br />And drew the flock behind him too, <br />As good bell-wethers always do. <br /><br />And from that day, o'er hill and glade. <br />Through those old woods a path was made. <br /><br />And many men wound in and out, <br />And dodged, and turned, and bent about; <br /><br />And uttered words of righteous wrath, <br />Because 'twas such a crooked path. <br /><br />But still they followed - do not laugh - <br />The first migrations of that calf. <br /><br />And through this winding wood-way stalked, <br />Because he wobbled when he walked. <br /><br />This forest path became a lane, <br />that bent, and turned, and turned again. <br /><br />This crooked lane became a road, <br />Where many a poor horse with his load, <br /><br />Toiled on beneath the burning sun, <br />And traveled some three miles in one. <br /><br />And thus a century and a half, <br />They trod the footsteps of that calf. <br /><br />The years passed on in swiftness fleet, <br />The road became a village street; <br /><br />And this, before men were aware, <br />A city's crowded thoroughfare; <br /><br />And soon the central street was this, <br />Of a renowned metropolis; <br /><br />And men two centuries and a half, <br />Trod in the footsteps of that calf. <br /><br />Each day a hundred thousand rout, <br />Followed the zigzag calf about; <br /><br />And o'er his crooked journey went, <br />The traffic of a continent. <br /><br />A Hundred thousand men were led, <br />By one calf near three centuries dead. <br /><br />They followed still his crooked way, <br />And lost one hundred years a day; <br /><br />For thus such reverence is lent, <br />To well established precedent. <br /><br />A moral lesson this might teach, <br />Were I ordained and called to preach; <br /><br />For men are prone to go it blind, <br />Along the calf-paths of the mind; <br /><br />And work away from sun to sun, <br />To do what other men have done. <br /><br />They follow in the beaten track, <br />And out and in, and forth and back, <br /><br />And still their devious course pursue, <br />To keep the path that others do. <br /><br />They keep the path a sacred grove, <br />Along which all their lives they move. <br /><br />But how the wise old wood gods laugh, <br />Who saw the first primeval calf! <br /><br />Ah! many things this tale might teach - <br />But I am not ordained to preach."<br /><br />you write some wonderful poems david just like donna does!........from terryTerryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08917338886406940158noreply@blogger.com