Clown In The Moon

My tears are like the quiet drift Of petals from some magic rose; And all my grief flows from the rift Of unremembered skies and snows. I think, that if I touched the earth, It would crumble; It is so sad and beautiful, So tremulously like a dream.

Magic

You have magic in your finger tips, Magic in your eye. Magic in the arms that hold And tell me not to cry. There is magic in your voice When you talk to me each day. There is magic in your smile And in the things you say. there is magic in the way You let me be myself with you.

The Owners Of The Magic Lamp

The magic lamp! How wonderfully works to them! ! They show you magic To charm, They show you a one Give another one You are charmed to them All the time; But whenever I go to take Instantly it does fall,

My Father Is A Retired Magician

(for ifa, p.t., & bisa) my father is a retired magician which accounts for my irregular behavior everythin comes outta magic hats or bottles wit no bottoms & parakeets are as easy to get as a couple a rabbits or 3 fifty cent pieces/ 1958 my daddy retired from magic & took

A Smile

A smile is a frown turned upside down. A smile is painted on the face of a clown. A smile brightens a dreary day. A smile chases tears away. A smile is a gift that shows you care.

A Poplar And The Moon

There stood a Poplar, tall and straight; The fair, round Moon, uprisen late, Made the long shadow on the grass A ghostly bridge ’twixt heaven and me. But May, with slumbrous nights, must pass; And blustering winds will strip the tree. And I’ve no magic to express The moment of that loveliness; So from these words you’ll never guess The stars and lilies I could see.

In The Mood

Hear that rhythm, check that beat, Feel that pulse beneath your feet, Find that tempo, measure the pace, Perceive that smile upon your face. Music is such a magic sound, Throbbing through the underground, Rising up to assail the ears, Supplying too, a few apt tears, Without it, life would be subdued, So up that volume, get in the mood!

May I Never Cease To Wonder

May I never cease to wonder: At the cascading crystal blue waters Of the waterfall; at each new dawn's Sweet sunbursts of flesh pink magic. At the moonlight flashing in my mirror; At the night's stars gently vibrating; At the jellyfish swell of oceanic dreaming; At the sheer joy of eternal becoming.

When I Set Out For Lyonnesse

When I set out for Lyonnesse, A hundred miles away, The rime was on the spray, And starlight lit my lonesomeness When I set out for Lyonnesse A hundred miles away. What would bechance at Lyonnesse While I should sojourn there No prophet durst declare,

Magic

Sandra's seen a leprechaun, Eddie touched a troll, Laurie danced with witches once, Charlie found some goblins' gold. Donald heard a mermaid sing, Susy spied an elf, But all the magic I have known I've had to make myself.

Never The Time And The Place

Never the time and the place And the loved one all together! This path--how soft to pace! This May -- what magic weather! Where is the loved one's face? In a dream that loved one's face meets mine, But the house is narrow, the place is bleak Where, outside, rain and wind combine With a furtive ear, if I strive to speak, With a hostile eye at my flushing cheek,

# A Beautiful Dawn

the morning is so beautiful..friend wake up and see it yourself the young dawns magic..nothing seems old as the new day unfolds wake up and see for yourself...friend if i shake you to wake you you wake up with a shock in mind sleep will leave its dread behind the morning is so beautiful...

Laughter

Laughter is a pleasant sound, it spreads joy all around Whether you're young or old, laughter can be like Magic to our souls, whenever we're feeling sad Laughter can sustain us so that things don't seem Quite so bad, if we give into laughter, it can be like A cure for something that seems impossible to endure So any time your spirits need a lift fill yourself With laughter and you will find, a much happier Person with a peaceful frame of mind

Cat Scat

I am watching Cleo listening, our cat listening to Mozart's Magic Flute. What can she be hearing? What can the air carry into her ears like that, her ears swivelling like radio dishes that are tuned to all the noise of the world, flat and sharp, high and low, a scramble of this and that she can decode like nobody's business, acrobat of random airs as she is? Although of course a bat is better at it, sifting out of its acoustic habitat

Invitation

If you are a dreamer, come in If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer... If you're a pretender, come sit by the fire For we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!

Love's Magic Touch

Love, A burning torch Of Happiness, Of which We never have Enough, The one You really love You never tire of Magic splendor,

Novemberness

Snowflakes create mosaics of moonlace. They paint fantastic shadows on the glass. A word or two accents the falling day. Dusk flickers like a magic picture light. The mood is older than Methuselah, As ageless as a speech by Robert Byrd. Time captures him in his Novemberness, Eternal as the Appalachian frost.

## An Amazing Creator

an amazing creator we have here a scientist a poet an economist an all in one he is and after all this if i just expect a magic out of him to prove himself to me

Hymns To The Night : 2

Must the morning always return? Will the despotism of the earthly never cease? Unholy activity consumes the angel-visit of the Night. Will the time never come when Love's hidden sacrifice shall burn eternally? To the Light a season was set; but everlasting and boundless is the dominion of the Night. -- Endless is the duration of sleep. Holy Sleep -- gladden not too seldom in this earthly day-labor, the devoted servant of the Night. Fools alone mistake thee, knowing nought of sleep but the shadow which, in the twilight of the real Night, thou pitifully castest over us. They feel thee not in the golden flood of the grapes -- in the magic oil of the almond tree -- and the brown juice of the poppy. They know not that it is thou who hauntest the bosom of the tender maiden, and makest a heaven of her lap -- never suspect it is thou, opening the doors to Heaven, that steppest to meet them out of ancient stories, bearing the key to the dwellings of the blessed, silent messenger of secrets infinite.

Upstairs

I too have a garret of old playthings. I have tin soldiers with broken arms upstairs. I have a wagon and the wheels gone upstairs. I have guns and a drum, a jumping-jack and a magic lantern. And dust is on them and I never look at them upstairs. I too have a garret of old playthings.