Truth

Sticks and stones may break my bones,

But words can also hurt me.
Stones and sticks break only skin,
While words are ghosts that haunt me.
Slant and curved the word swords fall
To pierce and stick inside me.
Bats and bricks may ache though bones,
but words can mortify me.
Pain from words has left its scar
On mind and heart thats tender.
Cuts and bruises now have healed;
Its words that I remember.
Barrie Wade

To a Child Dancing in the wind

Dance there upon the shore,
What need have you to care
For wind or waters roar?
And tumble out your hair
That the saildrops have wet
Being young you have not known
The fools triumph, nor yet
Love lost as soon as won,
Nor the best labourer dead
And all the sheaves to bind.
What need have you to dread
The monstrous crying of wind?
W.B.Yeats

The Witches Ride

Over the hills
Where the edge of the light
Deepens and darkens
To ebony night,
Narrow hats high
Above yellow bead eyes,
The tatter-haired witches
Ride through the skies.
Over the seas
Where the flat fishes sleep
Wrapped in the slap of the slippery deep,
Over the peaks
Where the black trees are bare,
Where the boney birds quiver
They glide through the air.
Silently humming
A horrible tune,
They sweep through the stillness
To sit on the moon.
Karla Kuskin.

Books
What worlds of wonder are our books!
As one opens them and looks,
New ideas and people rise
In our fancies and our eyes.
The room we sit in melts away,
And we find ourselves at play
With someone who, before the end,
May become our chosen friend.
Or we sail along the page
To some other land or age.
Heres our body in the chair,
But our mind is over there.
Each book is a magic box
Which with a touch a child unlocks.
In between their outside covers
Books hold all things for their lovers.
Eleanor Farjeon