Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Poetry by Bro. Edgar Guest

Mehr Licht!
More Light!

Number 95 – November 06, 2006

Today we have a good poem to share; I’m certain you’ll like it. It was written by Brother Edgar Guest, at one time the Poet Lauriat of Freemasonry. I had forgotten about this poem until Brother Milt Youmans sent it in the October 20th issue of the newsletter for Harry Truman Chapter no. 152 of the National Sojourners.

Veteran’ Day is November 11th.


The Things that Make a Soldier Great
By Edgar A. Guest

The things that make a soldier great and send him out to die,
To face the flaming cannon's mouth nor ever question why,
Are lilacs by a little porch, the row of tulips red,
The peonies and pansies, too, the old petunia bed,
The grass plot where his children play, the roses on the wall:
'Tis these that make a soldier great. He's fighting for them all.

Tis not the pomp and pride of kings that make a soldier brave; 'tis not allegiance to the flag that over him may wave; for soldiers never fight so well on land or on the foam as when behind the cause they see the little place called home. Endanger but that humble street whereon his children run, you make a soldier of the man who never bore a gun.

What is it through the battle smoke the valiant solider sees?
The little garden far away, the budding apple trees,
The little patch of ground back there, the children at their play,
Perhaps a tiny mound behind the simple church of gray.
The golden thread of courage isn't linked to castle dome
But to the spot, where'er it be — the humblest spot called home.

And now the lilacs bud again and all is lovely there and homesick soldiers far away know spring is in the air; the tulips come to bloom again, the grass once more is green, and every man can see the spot where all his joys have been. He sees his children smile at him, he hears the bugle call, and only death can stop him now — he's fighting for them all.


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Fraternally,
Ed Halpaus

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I am working on getting my domain name and e-mail connected with my domain name working again, but in the mean time I need to go back to the way things were done prior to all the conveniences connected with the domain and mail distribution site connected with it.

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Thanks and Fraternally,
Ed Halpaus

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Poetry by Brother H. Johnson

Mehr Licht!
More Light!

Number 98 – November 27, 2006

A Poem by W. Brother Harley Johnson, which I believe you will like. W.B. Harley is a Past Master of Koochiching Lodge #270 at International Falls, Minnesota. Brother Harley is also a Past Grand Lodge District Representative for District #1 of the Grand Lodge of Minnesota

Last night, I dreamed,I was in a room, and could not seeQuestions were askedmy answers were threeSomeone said just waitothers must know of your questtheir answers returnits for the bestSomeone said let him enterI could not, there was somethingbarring my way, then someone said knock and I grasped the ringI lifted to the wall and thenlet it fallan answer returned oflet him enter our hallI could not see, it was darkand lonely out thereand some one said follow your guideyou have nothing to fear,I walked in that darknessfor many a mile, or so it seemed,each step courage to takethis must be the end of my dream.Yet I traveled on toward I knew noteach step followed the otherwith questions asked , and answersgiven by another,I was taught to walk as you shouldgiven the road I had started onand brought to place whereI made promises upon.I was given a Apronby which to labor withyet I was told never toplace Moral stains on itThan they showed me their toolsand showed me how to use themto a builders use a place wheremy soul my dream to sendsome where along the roadmy eyes become unheededthat I should see what so longwas in a darkness hoodedMy dream was so strangethat I knew I saw a truth,that we ask for light so we as menshall find the vineyards truth

More Light – Mehr Licht ©, Masonic Matters © and T.F.S. ©, are sent out by E-mail at no charge to anyone who would like to receive them. If you enjoy these publications please share them with others. To subscribe to any one or all of these publications just send an E-mail to ed@halpaus.net with Subscribe and the Title, or ‘all 3,’ in the subject line and you will be added to the list to receive the publication you want.

Fraternally,
Ed Halpaus

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Monday, March 13, 2006

Praying Trees

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More Light!

Number 62 – March 13, 2006


A poem I thought you would like that I found among my Mother’s papers.



Praying Trees
By an Unknown Author
The wind is cold, the snow is deep,
My old bones ache, when I try to sleep.
The flu and I have just had a bout,
The dog wants in, and the cat wants out.
The pipes froze up, and the oil tank's low,
It snowed last night, and the car won't go.
The news on the radio all was bad,
I thought, "My word! Has the world gone mad?"
Then I looked outside, and I thought, says I,
"You should feel awful and wail and cry.
Look at the snow, just watch it swirl.
Turn on the self-pit, I say, old girl."
Then I looked again, and the trees stood there,
Shaking knotty knees in the frigid air.
The sun was just peeking its first faint ray,
But those poor bare trees could shiver and pray.
With branches uplifted to catch the light,
As dark shadows fled with the passing night.
And I said as I lifted my arms up high,
"If those poor naked trees pray, then why not I?"
Thank you, dear Lord, for the promise of spring,
When the brooks shall run and the wild birds sing.
Thank you Lord, for a bright new day,
And thank you Lord, for the trees that pray.





More Light – Mehr Licht ©, Masonic Matters © and T.F.S. ©, are sent out by E-mail at no charge to anyone who would like to receive them. If you enjoy these publications please share them with others. To subscribe to any one or all of these publications just send an E-mail to ed@halpaus.net with Subscribe and the Title, or ‘all 3’ in the subject line and you will be added to the list to receive the publication you want.

Fraternally,

Ed Halpaus

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Monday, January 30, 2006

Poem "Doing Day"

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More Light!

Number 56 – January 30, 2006


From Mensagenda – April 1994
Minnesota Mensa;


Doing-Day
By Gene Stoneman

I declare a doing-day
A day in which to do.
I will not think or plan or ponder,
Wonder or construe.

I’ll simply go from task to task,
Doing what needs done.
Remove the guilt, tear up the list,
And make the doing fun.

And in so doing do the deeds
Productive people do.
Completing all the nasty tasks
The unproductive rue.

I’ll think on what I’m doing,
Not what’s gone before.
I’ll focus on the task at hand,
And not on what’s in store.

Reduction of complexity
Makes doing-days a treat.
I’ll banish worldly guilt and noise,
Accomplish any feat.

And when this day is over,
I’ll rest here on the floor.
And make this resolution,
Next time I’ll do more.



More Light – Mehr Licht ©, Masonic Matters © and T.F.S. ©, are sent out by E-mail at no charge to anyone who would like to receive them. If you enjoy these publications please share them with others. To subscribe to any one or all of these publications just send an E-mail to ed@halpaus.net with Subscribe and the Title, or ‘all 3’, in the subject line and you will be added to the list to receive the publication you want.

Fraternally,
Ed Halpaus

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Monday, January 23, 2006

Poem "What Money Can't Buy."

Mehr Licht!
More Light!

Number 55 – January 23, 2006

A poem I thought you would like that I found among my Mother’s papers.


What Money Can't Buy
By an Anonymous Author

I went to the store with money in hand,
But the things that I wanted to buy,
They either had none, or they only had one,
And as usual the price was too high.
So when I came home I simply replaced
My money back safe on the shelf,
Went and sat down in my old easy chair
And began to take stock of myself.
Money can't buy a bright sunny day
With a few fleecy clouds in the blue.
Money can't buy a soft gentle rain,
Or a morning that sparkles with dew.
You can't buy compassion in packets or jars,
Or the wag of a friendly dog's tail.
You can't purchase friends by bushel or pound,
Or kindness in bundle or bale.
Money can't buy the songs of the birds,
Or the sound of the wind in the trees.
Money can't buy the magic of spring,
Or the low busy hum of the bees.
You can't buy a sunset or sky full of stars.
You can't buy the moon riding high.
You can't buy salvation, assurance, and peace,
Or heaven at last when you die.
And as I reflected on all of these things,
And God's word on which I rely,
My cup overflowed as I thanked the dear Lord
For all the things money can't buy.




More Light – Mehr Licht ©, Masonic Matters © and T.F.S. ©, are sent out by E-mail at no charge to anyone who would like to receive them. If you enjoy these publications please share them with others. To subscribe to any one or all of these publications just send an E-mail to ed@halpaus.net with Subscribe and the Title, or ‘all3,’ in the subject line and you will be added to the list to receive the publication you want.

Fraternally,

Ed Halpaus

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Monday, November 07, 2005

What Money Can't Buy

Mehr Licht!
More Light!

Number 44 – November 7, 2005

A poem I thought you would like that I found among my Mother’s papers.

What Money Can't Buy

By an Anonymous Author

I went to the store with money in hand,
But the things that I wanted to buy,
They either had none, or they only had one,
And as usual the price was too high.
So when I came home I simply replaced
My money back safe on the shelf,
Went and sat down in my old easy chair
And began to take stock of myself.
Money can't buy a bright sunny day
With a few fleecy clouds in the blue.
Money can't buy a soft gentle rain,
Or a morning that sparkles with dew.
You can't buy compassion in packets or jars,
Or the wag of a friendly dog's tail.
You can't purchase friends by bushel or pound,
Or kindness in bundle or bale.
Money can't buy the songs of the birds,
Or the sound of the wind in the trees.
Money can't buy the magic of spring,
Or the low busy hum of the bees.
You can't buy a sunset or sky full of stars.
You can't buy the moon riding high.
You can't buy salvation, assurance, and peace,
Or heaven at last when you die.
And as I reflected on all of these things,
And God's word on which I rely,
My cup overflowed as I thanked the dear Lord
For all the things money can't buy.

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