Man lives beneath the noises
Which he himself created,
And ends up in asylums
Once his greed is sated.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, August 15, 1951
Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
Ray Romine Poems
Man lives beneath the noises
Which he himself created,
And ends up in asylums
Once his greed is sated.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, August 15, 1951
“Up and at those problems!
Advance! Be bold! Attack!”
While such advice is very nice,
Why not some other tack?
For my experience tells me,
Before the fight commences,
That, not so slow, my problems know
The latest in defenses.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, April 11, 1951
All the things my neighbor tells me
Of other neighbors that he’s learned,
Makes me wonder if he spares me
then my back to him is turned.
A guy I work with loves to gossip
About another friend of ours;
Am I, then, in turn, his subject
When it comes to after-hours?
About my wife I even wonder ,
As high-heeled to her Club she goes:
When they rake their husbands over,
Does she tell em all she knows?
So help me, conscience, to remember,
If I gossip of a friend,
The guy to whom I’m talking gathers
I’ll talk about HIM in the end.
And anyway, I should remember:
“I was told”; “I heard”; “They say”–
Harm far more the chap who says them,
Than the subject, any day.
by Ray Romine Saturday, April 24, 1943
Enthusiasm should be firm enough
To stand against the fortunes of a day,
And throwing off impedimenta, stay
As fresh, untarnished, as its foes are rough.
In spite of every jeer and each rebuff,
Despite the clever things our critics say,
Regardless of the price we heve to pay,
Our zest for life ought be, of all things, tough.
But, long as men delude themselves, and think
That hard work is a virtue unsurpassed,
That labor is its own hard-earned reward,
That long will man’s enthusiasm shrink
Before midday; and by his sweat outclassed
He will die tired, and miserable, and bored.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, March 7, 1944
The well of man’s accomplishmentf is dry
That won’t produce when it is primed with try.
by Ray Romine Friday, July 17, 1953
When I grow weary waiting for those things
Which nature “owes” me just for being here;
When I am out of sorts with what earth brings
My way, then I am sure I do not gear
To cosmic cycles. The moon, the sun’s broad sweep,
And each shape in the interstellar sea
Have schedules each is duty-bound to keep:
How bother with an out-of-step like me?
But, stretching patient hands to winter’s sky,
A tree, ignored completely up to now,
Communicating silently, asks why
A man expects the universe to bow
To him. A tree’s philosophy is plain:
Endure and wait six months to live again!
by Ray Romine Friday, February 12, 1954
I’ll wine with you and dine with you;
But I’ll ask that you free me
From candle-light. What I’m to bite
Should get, at least, to see me!
by Ray Romine Sunday, January 20, 1952
Wounds aren’t serious in our purses
If one excepts his own reverses.
by Ray Romine Monday, March 24, 1952
I’ll handle this one without gloves:
If he’s hobbyist, and sappy,
Each man kills the thing he loves
Just to make his Mrs. happy.
by Ray Romine Sunday, March 4, 1951
With pleasure I cannot conceal
I’ll take her out and fete her
When the dough that one day bought the meal
Will do to tip the waiter.
by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 17, 1945