Graduation Poems
For A Girl I Know About To Be A Woman
by Stanley Miller Williams
Because you'll find how hard it can be
to tell which part of your body sings,
you never should dally with any young man
who does any one of the following things:
tries to beat all the yellow lights;
says, "Big deal!" or "So what?"
more than seven times a day;
ignores yellow lines in a parking lot;
......
Today We Make The Poet's Words Our Own
by Henry Wadswor Longfellow
To-day we make the poet's words our own,
And utter them in plaintive undertone;
Nor to the living only be they said,
But to the other living called the dead,
Whose dear, paternal images appear
Not wrapped in gloom, but robed in sunshine here;
Whose simple lives, complete and without flaw,
Were part and parcel of great Nature's law;
Who said not to their Lord, as if afraid,
"Here is thy talent in a napkin laid,'
......
The Graduate
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Sweet blooms in golden hour's wake,
As a diploma is given with handshake.
To blue-gold skies over glassy lake,
Scarlet redbird, the clouds overtake!
Nature is alive, and so is the degree,
And just no telling what all will be!
Like midnight stars in afar enormity,
Or a new dawn that whispers, "destiny."
......
The Graduate
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Sweet blooms in golden hour's wake,
As a diploma is given with handshake.
To blue-gold skies over glassy lake,
Scarlet redbird, the clouds overtake!
Nature is alive, and so is the degree,
And just no telling what all will be!
Like midnight stars in afar enormity,
Or a new dawn that whispers, "destiny."
......
For A Girl I Know About To Be A Woman
by Stanley Miller Williams
Because you'll find how hard it can be
to tell which part of your body sings,
you never should dally with any young man
who does any one of the following things:
tries to beat all the yellow lights;
says, "Big deal!" or "So what?"
more than seven times a day;
ignores yellow lines in a parking lot;
......
Today We Make The Poet's Words Our Own
by Henry Wadswor Longfellow
To-day we make the poet's words our own,
And utter them in plaintive undertone;
Nor to the living only be they said,
But to the other living called the dead,
Whose dear, paternal images appear
Not wrapped in gloom, but robed in sunshine here;
Whose simple lives, complete and without flaw,
Were part and parcel of great Nature's law;
Who said not to their Lord, as if afraid,
"Here is thy talent in a napkin laid,'
......
