Celtic Blessing
May the strength of the wind and the light of the sun,
The softness of the rain and the mystery of the moon
Reach you and fill you.
May beauty delight you and happiness uplift you,
May wonder fulfil you and love surround you.
May your step be steady and your arm be strong,
May your heart be peaceful and your word be true.
May you seek to learn, may you learn to live,
May you live to love, and may you love - always.
The softness of the rain and the mystery of the moon
Reach you and fill you.
May beauty delight you and happiness uplift you,
May wonder fulfil you and love surround you.
May your step be steady and your arm be strong,
May your heart be peaceful and your word be true.
May you seek to learn, may you learn to live,
May you live to love, and may you love - always.
May you always have walls for the winds,
A roof for the rain, tea beside the fire,
Laughter to cheer you, those you love near you,
and all your heart might desire.
May the sun shine all day long,
Everything go right, and nothing wrong.
May those you love bring love back to you,
And may all the wishes you wish come true.
May luck be your friend
In whatever you do
And may trouble be always
A stranger to you.
A roof for the rain, tea beside the fire,
Laughter to cheer you, those you love near you,
and all your heart might desire.
May the sun shine all day long,
Everything go right, and nothing wrong.
May those you love bring love back to you,
And may all the wishes you wish come true.
May luck be your friend
In whatever you do
And may trouble be always
A stranger to you.
When God wants something special done
in this world...
He sends a baby and then...
He waits.
Author Unknown
in this world...
He sends a baby and then...
He waits.
Author Unknown
Welcome to the world – Si Kahn
Pick me out an old-time song
Sing it right and sing it wrong
Play a tune that's nine months long
Welcome to the World
Take my fiddle and my bow
Play you every tune I know
Keep you dancing while you grow
Welcome to the World
We've got diapers by the pail
Mama's skinny as a rail
Got the whole world by the tail
Welcome to the World
Listen to that baby squall
Must be nearly ten feet tall
And you'd think he'd done it all
Welcome to the World
In my mind I see you clear
Changing through the days and years
And we're glad you're finally here
Welcome to the World
May you grow up proud and strong
May your life be rich and long
May your nights be filled with song
Welcome to the World
Pick me out an old-time song
Sing it right and sing it wrong
Play a tune that's nine months long
Welcome to the World
Take my fiddle and my bow
Play you every tune I know
Keep you dancing while you grow
Welcome to the World
We've got diapers by the pail
Mama's skinny as a rail
Got the whole world by the tail
Welcome to the World
Listen to that baby squall
Must be nearly ten feet tall
And you'd think he'd done it all
Welcome to the World
In my mind I see you clear
Changing through the days and years
And we're glad you're finally here
Welcome to the World
May you grow up proud and strong
May your life be rich and long
May your nights be filled with song
Welcome to the World
from The Newborn (C. Day Lewis)
This mannikin who just now
Broke prison and stepped free
Into his own identity -
Hand, foot and brow
A finished work, a breathing miniature -
Was still, a while ago
A hope, a dread, a mere shape we
Had lived with, only sure
Something would grow
Out of its coiled nine-months nonentity.
... How like a blank sheet
His lineaments appear;
But there's invisible writing here
Which the day's heat
Will show: legends older than language, glum
Histories of the tribe,
Directives from his near and dear -
Charms, curses, rules of thumb -
He will transcribe
Into his own blood to write upon an heir.
... Welcome to earth, my child!
... We time-worn folk renew
Ourselves at your enchanted spring,
As though mankind's begun
Again in you.
This mannikin who just now
Broke prison and stepped free
Into his own identity -
Hand, foot and brow
A finished work, a breathing miniature -
Was still, a while ago
A hope, a dread, a mere shape we
Had lived with, only sure
Something would grow
Out of its coiled nine-months nonentity.
... How like a blank sheet
His lineaments appear;
But there's invisible writing here
Which the day's heat
Will show: legends older than language, glum
Histories of the tribe,
Directives from his near and dear -
Charms, curses, rules of thumb -
He will transcribe
Into his own blood to write upon an heir.
... Welcome to earth, my child!
... We time-worn folk renew
Ourselves at your enchanted spring,
As though mankind's begun
Again in you.
Riders (Robert Frost)
The surest thing there is is we are riders,
And though none too successful at it, guiders,
Through everything presented, land and tide
And now the very air, of what we ride.
What is this talked-of mystery of birth
But being mounted bareback on the earth?
We can just see the infant up astride,
His small fist buried in the busy hide.
There is our wildest mount - the headless horse.
But though it runs unbridled off its course,
And all our blandishments would seem defied,
We have ideas yet that we haven't tried.
The surest thing there is is we are riders,
And though none too successful at it, guiders,
Through everything presented, land and tide
And now the very air, of what we ride.
What is this talked-of mystery of birth
But being mounted bareback on the earth?
We can just see the infant up astride,
His small fist buried in the busy hide.
There is our wildest mount - the headless horse.
But though it runs unbridled off its course,
And all our blandishments would seem defied,
We have ideas yet that we haven't tried.
Go, and be happy
You are born into the dazzling light of day.
Go, and be wise
You are born upon an earth which needs new eyes.
Go, and be strong
You are born into a world where love rights wrong.
Go, and be brave
Possess your soul; that you alone can save.
-- Siegfried Sassoon
You are born into the dazzling light of day.
Go, and be wise
You are born upon an earth which needs new eyes.
Go, and be strong
You are born into a world where love rights wrong.
Go, and be brave
Possess your soul; that you alone can save.
-- Siegfried Sassoon
Nothing is strange to a child for whom
everything is new.
Where all things are new nothing is novel.
The child does not yet know what belongs and
what does not;
therefore for him all things belong.
The ear of a child is open to all music.
His eyes are open to all arts.
His mind is open to all tongues.
His being is open to all manners.
In the child's country there are no foreigners.
(Kenneth L. Patton, from This World, My Home)
everything is new.
Where all things are new nothing is novel.
The child does not yet know what belongs and
what does not;
therefore for him all things belong.
The ear of a child is open to all music.
His eyes are open to all arts.
His mind is open to all tongues.
His being is open to all manners.
In the child's country there are no foreigners.
(Kenneth L. Patton, from This World, My Home)
O Lord, let me be a burden on my children
For long they've been a burden upon me.
May they fetch and carry, clean and scrub
And do so cheerfully.
Let them take it in turns at putting me up
Nice sunny rooms at the top of the stairs
With a walk-in bath and lift installed
At great expense.....Theirs.
Insurance against the body-blows of time
Isn't that what having children's all about?
To bring them up knowing that they owe you
And can't contract out?
What is money for but to spend on their schooling?
Designer clothes, mindless hobbies, usual stuff.
Then as soon as they're earning, off they go
Well, enough's enough.
It's been a blessing watching them develop
The parental pride we felt as each one grew.
But Lord, let me be a burden on my children
And on my children's children too.
Roger Mcgough
"Men," said the little prince, "set out on their way in express trains, but they do not know what they are looking for. Then they rush about, and get excited, and turn round and round..."
And he added:
"It is not worth the trouble..."
The well that we had come to was not like the wells of the Sahara. The wells of the Sahara are mere holes dug in the sand. This one was like a well in a village. But there was no village here, and I thought I must be dreaming...
"It is strange," I said to the little prince. "Everything is ready for use: the pulley, the bucket, the rope..."
He laughed, touched the rope, and set the pulley to working. And the pulley moaned, like an old weathervane which the wind has long since forgotten.
"Do you hear?" said the little prince. "We have wakened the well, and it is singing..."
I did not want him to tire himself with the rope.
"Leave it to me," I said. "It is too heavy for you."
I hoisted the bucket slowly to the edge of the well and set it there – happy, tired as I was, over my achievement. The song of the pulley was still in my ears, and I could see the sunlight shimmer in the still trembling water.
"I am thirsty for this water," said the little prince. "Give me some of it to drink..."
And I understood what he had been looking for.
I raised the bucket to his lips. He drank, his eyes closed. It was as sweet as some special festival treat. This water was indeed a different thing from ordinary nourishment. Its sweetness was born of the walk under the stars, the song of the pulley, the effort of my arms. It was good for the heart, like a present. When I was a little boy, the lights of the Christmas tree, the music of the Midnight Mass, the tenderness of smiling faces, used to make up, so, the radiance of the gifts I received.
"The men where you live," said the little prince, "raise five thousand roses in the same garden – and they do not find in it what they are looking for."
"They do not find it," I replied.
"And yet what they are looking for could be found in one single rose, or in a little water."
"Yes, that is true," I said.
And the little prince added:
"But the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart..."
(from The Little Prince by Antoine de St-Exupery)
And he added:
"It is not worth the trouble..."
The well that we had come to was not like the wells of the Sahara. The wells of the Sahara are mere holes dug in the sand. This one was like a well in a village. But there was no village here, and I thought I must be dreaming...
"It is strange," I said to the little prince. "Everything is ready for use: the pulley, the bucket, the rope..."
He laughed, touched the rope, and set the pulley to working. And the pulley moaned, like an old weathervane which the wind has long since forgotten.
"Do you hear?" said the little prince. "We have wakened the well, and it is singing..."
I did not want him to tire himself with the rope.
"Leave it to me," I said. "It is too heavy for you."
I hoisted the bucket slowly to the edge of the well and set it there – happy, tired as I was, over my achievement. The song of the pulley was still in my ears, and I could see the sunlight shimmer in the still trembling water.
"I am thirsty for this water," said the little prince. "Give me some of it to drink..."
And I understood what he had been looking for.
I raised the bucket to his lips. He drank, his eyes closed. It was as sweet as some special festival treat. This water was indeed a different thing from ordinary nourishment. Its sweetness was born of the walk under the stars, the song of the pulley, the effort of my arms. It was good for the heart, like a present. When I was a little boy, the lights of the Christmas tree, the music of the Midnight Mass, the tenderness of smiling faces, used to make up, so, the radiance of the gifts I received.
"The men where you live," said the little prince, "raise five thousand roses in the same garden – and they do not find in it what they are looking for."
"They do not find it," I replied.
"And yet what they are looking for could be found in one single rose, or in a little water."
"Yes, that is true," I said.
And the little prince added:
"But the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart..."
(from The Little Prince by Antoine de St-Exupery)
Before You Came
What did we do, in the days before you came?
Vodka, and dancing, and staying out late
Breakfast at tea-time
Reading the papers, a long lie-in
And space in the bed
Now it's daisy chains, and super-heroes
Butterfly wings, and light-sabres
Eating pink cake
Naming stars
And catching snowflakes in our mouths
No room in the bed
And a half-sleep on its edge
While you snore, stretched out, a star-fish
Time escaping, before you came
And cast your spell
And filled the house with possibility;
All the things you want to do
And all the things you're going to be
So - let's make a den
Take our biscuits in
Carve lanterns at Hallowe'en
Watch grown-ups do star jumps on a trampoline
And wonder what we ever did
In the days before you came.
by Beverley Butcher
What did we do, in the days before you came?
Vodka, and dancing, and staying out late
Breakfast at tea-time
Reading the papers, a long lie-in
And space in the bed
Now it's daisy chains, and super-heroes
Butterfly wings, and light-sabres
Eating pink cake
Naming stars
And catching snowflakes in our mouths
No room in the bed
And a half-sleep on its edge
While you snore, stretched out, a star-fish
Time escaping, before you came
And cast your spell
And filled the house with possibility;
All the things you want to do
And all the things you're going to be
So - let's make a den
Take our biscuits in
Carve lanterns at Hallowe'en
Watch grown-ups do star jumps on a trampoline
And wonder what we ever did
In the days before you came.
by Beverley Butcher
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