Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
Ray Romine Poems
Here I stand
At age 37 -Halfway
from Birth
To Hell or Heaven,*
Leaning on a post
Staring at the moon,
Wondering if success
Is curse or boon?
A worthy thought ,
But a shame to waste it;
To test success
You have to taste it!
* Is there doubt which??
by Ray Romine Saturday, September 20, 1947
If it’s not too much imposition,
I’ll boast of my son’s disposition:
He likes his teacher, he likes school;
He is considerate, as a rule;
He’s seldom in a pouty mood;
He isn’t fussy as to food;
He thinks his father isn’t old;
He goes to bed when he is told;
I’ve seen him fall, and, from the -ground,
Grin and make no slightest sound;
He’ll come for lunch at just a call;
He’s quite good-natured, after all,
Except that if you’d see him lose
His temper, mention overshoes!
by Ray Romine Monday, February 11, 1952
I forget my wife’s age–but remember her birthdays;
I praise her fine points–but ignore what her girth stays;
Anniversaries seldom, if ever, get by me;
From the social amenities you cannot pry me.
But for genuine thoughtfulness I’m Just in training
Beside who buys his raincoat when it isn’t raining!
I’m a great one to compliment my hostess on
The height of her salad, the looks of her lawn;
I’m good at “forgive me”, and “I beg your pardon”,
And I’ve nothing but nice things to say of her garden.
Still I have of longheadednees only an inkling
To who calls the roof-man when it isn’t sprinkling.
With whatever profundity I prowl the town,
A drizzle will catch me with storm signals down,
So am I far-sighted?–can you thus define me
When the smallest of showers can so undermine me?
Now if you’ll excuse me, I must see a fella- –
IT S RAINING!!–who’ll sell me a leak-proof umbrella?
by Ray Romine Wednesday, September 5, 1945
In February, gardens lie
Beneath the winter’s lash,
And lack the colored dash
That draws from casual passers-by
A wondering glance, an envied sigh.
But gardeners are of a kind
Enthusiasms play
Upon so freely they
Take joy from last year’s flowers, and find
Content from next year’s. Love is blind!
by Ray Romine Wednesday, January 30, 1946
Earth has pulled a blanket round her,
To her chin, and yawned to bed;
Then I come along and shovel
Through to scratch her tousled head.
She arouses, turns and mutters,
“Make it snappy, son. I’m dead!”
She should. grumble; she should cry–
With this shoveling, so am I!
by Ray Romine Sunday, November 26, 1950
The trees snap sharply in the chill;
Curved snow hugs closely to the hill;
The lifeless brook stares blank and still,
And summer days are distant things.
But, dreaming, tight-wrapped buds recall
The fairer time; and, safe from fall,
The moth hangs in her silken shawl
and sleeps, aware we sometimes crawl
Through cold aloneness for our wings.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 3, 1950
I like to squeeze the toothpaste tube,
And fold it up from underneath;
I laugh and shout
To watch come out
Happy smiles, and shining teeth!
by Ray Romine Sunday, August 26, 1951
Angry at yourself; where grew
But one mistake, there are now two.
by Ray Romine Thursday, September 14, 1950
I sat me down by candlelight
A long to-be-remembered night;
I sang a song and breathed a prayer,
Along with young folk gathered there.
A Holy Presence seemed to me
Alive within that room to be
Reflected there in youthful face;
And hope there seemed for all our race.
I sensed the Spirit that from soul
Did help them reach towards common goal:
To higher think, do finer things,
To feel the pleasure helping brings,
To live them better, useful lives,
To ready be when time arrives
To take the reins that drop we must
Vlhen brief careers shall Death adJust.
Self and riches, greed and power
A back seat took within that hour.
Scarce more than children seemed they there–
But such old heads for youth to wear!
I knew I ne’er before had trod
The heights so close to living God;
Could blase scoffer with them sit,
His doubt he’d have to doubt a bit.
Small isle of good this scene portrayed,
In sea of evil man has made;
Yet stay! –This isle is man-made too;
God helping, good from evil grew.
Yet–something’s there I can’t define
Awaiting finer words than mine:–
Perchance ideals? They have them still;
Their faith protects their hearts, and will!
Impressed, I left them, deeply moved;
Surprised, to find my faith improved:
This prayer for them, to You, from us–
Protect them, God, and keep them thus!
by Ray Romine Sunday, January 4, 1942
I paused awhile upon a hill, the city far below,
And sew the garish, blinking lights that man has made to glow.
I sensed the pompous ego there–man’s voice imperious, vain,
Seemed mingled with the boasting glare, of common birth the twain.
I raised my eyes to heaven then and saw the lamps of God
That twinkle forth so quietly, on paths no man may trod;
I found the Pleiades, that wounds in Taurus’ shoulder be,
And Sirius swung across the sky at fierce Orion’s knee.
How truly great, magnificent! Each tiny point of light
Is sun so huge it dwttrfs our own, an overwhelming might
Of flame and gas, a whirling mass, all wrought on scale so grand
When measured with, our universe is but a grain of sand.
Those self-same shapes Christ looked upon two thousand years ago;
Our great-greet-great grandchildren will still see them there, we know:
But man’s brief flash he boasts about will long as candle last–
How will he scratch the track of time when future scans the past?
I stood and mused upon a hill, the city down below,
And sew the raucous, glaring lights that man has made to glow:
I sensed the pompous ego there–I turned my eyes to Thee,
And glimpsed the light that from thy stars dost teach humility.
by Ray Romine Monday, October 27, 1941