Some Broken Twigs   By: Clara M. Beede

BY CLARA M. BEEDE

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The Press of Flozari, Pegasus Studios Box 5804, Cleveland, 1, Ohio 1946

Dedicated to my granddaughter BETTY TODD BRISTOW the new mother

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

We are grateful for permission to include certain poems that were first published in Caravan of Verse, Cass County Democrat, 1943 Chipmunk, From, Lyricists Reflections, 1940 Song Poems, The New Earth, Tulsa Tribune, and 1941 Visions.

OTHER TORCHBEARER CHAPBOOKS

by

CLARA M. BEEDE

45: Brown Plumes 51: More Brown Plumes 63: Sunshine and Rain 73: Clear Crystals (Second Printing) 88: Only Pebbles 94: Golden Leaves 98: Sail High Above

FOREWORD

In the four seasons of the year there are many beautiful days as well as dismal days in life. The broken twigs and trails, as well as the good ones go to make up this world. All mark and show posterity the way out of the woods.

These poems, and many other poems written by Mrs. Beede show these things and the wonders of nature.

As only a true mother can, she has shown me these wonders. I sincerely hope that all who read her poems will appreciate them as I do and reap the benefit of the morals of her thoughtful and enjoyable poems and know as I do her love of nature and things beautiful.

Genevieve Beede Henderson

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TO NEW YORK

For maid and lad New York is fairy land, Delightful charms in gorgeous brilliant lure! Our youth do struggle on ambition's tour. They meet life's challenge with true heart and hand. Forgotten trails are marked with scar and wand; A blasted rock and broken twigs assure The traveler that others fought the moor, And sailed the stormy breakers, crossed the sand To build the city on a granite slab. They tamed the wilderness, a sturdy clan! Retracing paths recall the glory made, Lays bare the secrets of the field and lab. Such tours give hope for future life and plan. Brave men have set the torch with ax and spade.

MEET THE CHALLENGE

The coddled youth, like greenhouse plant Will wilt and die in desert sand, Can never meet the storms of life, Untried and mild and soft his hands.

He walks within the favored nooks, Protected there much more than those, Who meet the challenge face ahead, And struggle on to conquer foes.

They learn to take the gaff and thrust, And from an inner courage gain A faith in toil and love of truth; They pray to God to ease the pain.

WINTER

A glow of life shines from the leaf stripped limbs, In sheltered nooks snowbirds are singing hymns. The sycamore shafts gleam and shine afar, Down by the river where the black oaks are. The goldenrod now droops his fuzzy head; There by my fence, leaves make a fluffy bed. They mulch my flower seed down in the loam; Beyond below the tall sedge grasses moan. Seared grass curls firmly over tender sprigs, And my rose bush there curves its brown thorned twigs. Beneath my window, tulip bulbs lay snug, Quite safe and warm in earthy winter rug. All nature resting for a springtime gain, And quiet gray tones soothe an inner pain.

DREAMING BY THE RIVER

Ripples on the water Rustling in the trees Wind sighing gently Whistling by with ease. Cow bells tinkling distant Farmer on the lea, Cattle nibbling grasses Little honey bee. Frosted leaves of autumn Sailing down the stream. Neatest clump of willows, Oh, for some ice cream.

WHEN YOU COME HOME