Selections from Trella Romine's library at Terradise Nature Center
Ray Romine Poems
The silence of the star-pierced night
We almost touch here from our hill,
As wordlessly we watch time’s flight
Told by a clock it cannot kill.
The quiet is a wraith just seen,
Like barely viewed night flights of birds
With understanding stretched between,
Too perfect to be spoiled with words.
by Ray Romine Thursday, September 6, 1951
Man, upon his narrow earth,
Has little he can cling to;
So cherish all the solid worth
Of Beauty poets sing to.
by Ray Romine Tuesday, October 19, 1948
Uncle Sam is convinced, after all,
He should learn the Australian Crawl.
The fee, I’m prepared to
Swear that, compared to
The crossing of Bridges, is small.
by Ray Romine Sunday, June 25, 1950
Now once there was an Easter
When it didn’t rain at all,
According to my Grandad,
But he tells ’em pretty TALLl
note: Especially about when the snow was three feet deep on the level; he walked nine miles to school; he shot buffalo in his front yard.
by Ray Romine Saturday, April 1, 1933
Loaning money, fate discloses,
Is the surest way to part with
Friends; but then this presupposes
One has friends with dough to start with.
by Ray Romine Monday, May 1, 1950
“Take it from me–” I will bar
This from MY speech, for they are.
by Ray Romine Saturday, August 25, 1951
How does the letter-carrier man
Improve each shining minute?
His mind–is it upon his work,
Are heart and soul poured in it?
Does tramping with a load all day
Inspire him to the limit?
That spark of fire we’re s’posed to have–
Will this, in future, dim it?
I imagine thoughts of senile ease
Are what relieve the tension;
For, after 30 yeers of this,
Him they will someday pension!
“Now if my legs can stand the gaff,
If feet and heart can take it – -“
(I know now what he’s thinking of:
He’s PRAYING he will MAKE it!)
by Ray Romine Friday, October 9, 1942
No more rationing on meat,
No more coupons for the feet.
Gasoline to travel far
We now have for every car.
Soon there’ll be new tires on view
And refrigerators, too,
Toasters, beaters, davenports
All-wool suits, and cotten shorts
Conveniences that never were,
Clerks that warble, “Thank you, SIR!”
Shortages got all the blame
For our woes, but just the same,
Now we’ll have to fight like hell
To keep from buying all they sell!
by Ray Romine Tuesday, September 11, 1945
“It’s REST for you,”
The doctor spoke;
But no can do,
I’m nearly broke.
I got it then.
The Doc knew best:
He took my ten–
I have the rest!
[or]
And I’ve the rest!
by Ray Romine Monday, June 18, 1951
In summer, things can go to pot;
Who can work when it’s too hot?
Winter’s made for work, I’m told,
But who can work when it’s so cold?
Who wants to slave like anything
In the gentle months of spring?
And who can turn to work at all
When the leaves turn in the fall?
Not me! The underlying reason:
Effort’s always out of season.
by Ray Romine Sunday, July 2, 1950