By: Cary Briel, Skaneateles Design

“The Philosopher” – Edna St. Vincent Millay

And what are you that, wanting you,
I should be kept awake
As many nights as there are days
With weeping for your sake?

And what are you that, missing you,
As many days as crawl
I should be listening to the wind
And looking at the wall?

I know a man that’s a braver man
And twenty men as kind,
And what are you, that you should be
The one man on my mind?

Yet women’s ways are witless ways,
As any sage will tell,–
And what am I, that I should love
So wisely and so well?

Posted by: Cary Briel, Skaneateles Design

“Thursday” – Edna St. Vincent Millay

And if I loved you Wednesday,
Well, what is that to you?

I do not love you Thursday–
So much is true.

And why you come complaining
Is more than I can see.

I loved you Wednesday,–yes–but what
Is that to me?

Posted by: Cary Briel, Skaneateles Design

This is by far my favorite Seuss story.

“The Lorax” – Dr. Seuss

At the far end of town
where the Grickle-grass grows
and the wind smells slow-and-sour when it blows
and no birds ever sing excepting old crows…
is the Street of the Lifted Lorax.

And deep in the Grickle-grass, some people say,
if you look deep enough you can still see, today,
where the Lorax once stood
just as long as it could
before somebody lifted the Lorax away. (more…)

Posted by: Cary Briel, Skaneateles Design

This poem my father recited to us from memory repeatedly when we were kids. The lines stick with me after all these years.

“The Agnostic” – Edna St. Vincent Millay

The tired agnostic longs for prayer
More than the blessed can ever do:
Between the chinks in his despair,
From out his forest he peeps through
Upon a clearing sunned so bright
He cups his eyeballs from its light. (more…)

Posted by: Cary Briel, Skaneateles Design

My father recited this to my brother and I over, and over again when we were children. I remember thinking at the time that he had simply made up this silly poem!

“Jabberwocky” – Lewis Carroll

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought –
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

“And has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.