Don't Belittle Little Things

Picture includes a puppy, bee, garden, flowers, cloudy day etc...

"Don't Belittle, Little Things"

A pup on a lark with a joyous bark,

In the clover was fanciful free.

He scampered amuck; stopped very abrupt,

When he chanced on a big bumblebee.

Now the bee looked up at the lazy pup,

The pup thereupon showed his teeth;

"I've got teeth too," said the bumblebee,

"Tho' I may be little and hard to see."

So he stung the pup with an angry buzz;

Now the pup's not so cocky as he used to wuz.

Old-fashioned figures in profile...

Below are old-fashioned silhouettes (paper cuts) of ladies and gentlemen from the Victorian era.

The greeting.

In mourning.

The argument.

A Wise Old Owl

Picture of an owl sitting on an oak tree limb with a moon and night sky behind him.

A Wise Old Owl

by Le Roy Newark

A wise old owl

Lived in an oak,

The more he saw

The less he spoke, 

The less he spoke

The more he heard;

Why can't we be

Like that old bird?

Polish Gwaizdy Paper Templates

       Here are some paper stars from old Poland, these designs may be used for personal crafts. Visit few other web sites for now to see how they were cut. (links for folding below)

More Gwiazdy Paper Cutting:

• Cut Paper - Gwiazdy from art for small hands
• Polish Gwiazdy from DLTK's

Song to The Violet

SONG TO THE VIOLET

by James Russell Lowell

Violet! sweet violet!

Thine eyes are full of tears;

Are they wet

Even yet

With the thought of other years;

Or with gladness are they full,

For the night so beautiful,

And longing for those far-off spheres?

Loved one of my youth thou wast,

Of my merry youth,

And I see

Tearfully,

All the fair and sunny past,

All its openness and truth,

Ever fresh and green in thee

As the moss is in the sea.

Thy little heart, that hath, with love

Grown colored like the sky above,

On which thou lookest ever,

Can it know

All the woe

Of hope for what returneth never,

All the sorrow and the longing

to these hearts of ours belonging?

Out on it! no foolish pining

For the sky

Dims thine eye,

Or for the stars so calmly shinning;

Like thee, let this soul of mine

Take hue from that wherefor I long,

Self-stayed and high, serene and strong,

Not satisfied with hoping, but divine.

Violet! dear violet!

Thy blue eyes are only wet

With joy and love of Him who sent thee,

And for the fulfilling sense

Of that glad obedience

Which made thee all that nature meant thee!