Work Type: Ray Romine Poems

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Lay Him Gently

Yes, lay him gently there upon the grass,
The soldier who but lately stood so bold
And died, to hold the foe beyond the pass.
His heart, so fraught with fire, is growing cold–
God give this nation hearts from this same mold!
More like him, who, not one to seek for strife,
Did, when he saw his duty, arms unfold,
And flinch not from the Master Pruner’s knife,
This boy who gave the all he had to give, his life.

God give this country hearts that here at home
Can work and sacrifice without complaint;
God give us men who from their native loam
Can give us food without a selfish taint;
Men who can pass our laws without a feint,
And men into whose jobs their souls can pour!
Of us, but very few will-e’er be saint,
But heroes can we create by the score–
If we’ll but give, and try, and fight a little more!
•
(Experiment with Spencerian
Stanza… fin. 10-15-42)

by Ray Romine Thursday, October 15, 1942

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Lawn Mowing

When grass is cut, I like it then–
I sniff its fresh new odor, but it
Won’t smell half so pretty when
I’m older and I have to cut it.

by Ray Romine Monday, February 25, 1952

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Later, Please

The guy I abhor
When I’m sowing wild oats
Is the learned didactic
Quoter of quotes.

My conscience may wallop me
Soundly tomorrow;
But tonight, please, no sermons,
no examples, or sorrow.

So take him and hang him
And bury his notes
With the gravel-voiced quoter
Of quotable quotes.

by Ray Romine Thursday, October 12, 1950

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Late In May

Have the cock begin his crowing:
Some splurge May this morn is throwing!
Far cry, this, from winter’s snowing;
All the world is lush, green,–growing
Much TOO fast–the lawn needs mowing;
Dandelions their seeds are sowing,
Each its share of grief a-towing.
Garden weeds are skyward going,
Green and healthy they are glowing;
Time to start their weekly hoeing.
Screens need hoisting–flies are showing:
Some are silent–some are blowing.
Whole dang place is over-growing,
Under-cleaned and overflowing.
But I for one am easy-going:
I had rather boat be rowing
To a shady spot I’m knowing,
Where the current’s gently flowing;
Hear the cattle’s lowly lowing?
But I hear the wife helloing:
“Come on, Shakespeare, let’s be stowing
All that guff–you’re on me slowing;
To the world a debt you’ re owing;
WORK comes first, and THEN sea-going!”
Yes,
Lovely is spring, and high I’d rate it,
Had I the time to appreciate it.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, May 26, 1943

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Last Word

“Automobile makers are out to discover what ladies want in a car–
and give it to them.”
….. News item

Mere man, it seems, has little choice:
His car’s designed to fit his dame.
In just one question has he voice:
How find the dough to pay for same?

by Ray Romine Wednesday, October 18, 1950

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Last Straw

Mother sees them hang from trees,
Bang their heads and skin their knees;
Past various and assorted bumps,
She watches them survive the mumps,
Tonsilitis, whooping-cough;
She soothes, and laughs these “trifles” off.
And then, the day they’re safely wed,
The dam is burst, and tears are shed!

by Ray Romine Monday, August 7, 1950

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Last Request

No flowers, please , darling, and no one to pray.
A queer sort of funeral? If I have my way
You’ll skip the soft music, the sadness, and say:
“It’ s a lot better world we live in today!”

by Ray Romine Thursday, September 6, 1945

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Last Quarter

Some nights the moon rides bold and high,
A bright silver dollar across the sky;
But this morning she’s hiding, the merest slit–
A deflated dollar ashamed of it.

by Ray Romine Thursday, June 25, 1953

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Last Man

Here in the light of a dying sun,
Aware of encroaching cold,
I sit with a myriad of things undone
In dissolution and mold.

My mind, too shortly now to be
One with the barren clod,
Shrinks at being undoubtedly
The last human link with God.

I curse, then I settle, for things have gone
Exactly according to plan:
A bug and a lichen to carry on,
For man, after all, was a man.

by Ray Romine Wednesday, March 18, 1953