In power or out, weak or strong,
The Party to which I belong,
Come whatever may,
Is the one, I can say,
That’s incapable, wholly, of wrong.
by Ray Romine Monday, August 6, 1951
Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
In power or out, weak or strong,
The Party to which I belong,
Come whatever may,
Is the one, I can say,
That’s incapable, wholly, of wrong.
by Ray Romine Monday, August 6, 1951
We laid aside
The tune that died.;
We stifled., murdered, downed it.
But we will hear
It for a year—
Our neighbor has just found it.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, July 10, 1951
Snow-stars from heaven, examined closely,
Cause me to ask, almost morosely,
However sun could have the heart
To melt such pure and matchless art!
by Ray Romine Monday, December 15, 1952
The Mums and the Asters are just at their height,
And the Ootober landsoape will soon be alight
With improbable colors so gaudy they seem
To be something conceived in an art-student’s dream.
No designer or artist would risk such abuses
Of contrasting values as Dame Nature uses.
by Ray Romine Thursday, September 11, 1947
“Where there’s smoke there’s fire”
I can hardly term a joke,
For in my lazy carcass
You won’t find smoke!
by Ray Romine Sunday, April 5, 1953
Controls are a thing I despise,
And regimentation I hate;
But apparently free enterprise
Can’t exist in our Socialist state.
So I follow Who-Would-Be-King,
With few rights any more I can shout of,
Serenely sure of one thing:
The control I am very near out of.
by Ray Romine Sunday, February 11, 1951
I’ve friends who love our frigid clime,
And who are over-bold
In poking fun with prose and rhyme
At us who mind the cold.
For winter’s my pet peeve. Alas,
I’m that benighted soul
Who doesn’t heat with oil or gas,
But who still shovels coal.
by Ray Romine Monday, August 21, 1950
Poem not found
by Ray Romine Thursday, August 18, 1949
Many are the foes of boredom
Could a fellow but afford ’em.
by Ray Romine Thursday, August 18, 1949
If there’s a time when a man might weep
On Mother Nature’s shoulder,
It’s when he’s too old for the younger fold
And much too young for the older.
by Ray Romine Monday, August 8, 1949