A Soldier's Silent Night

As spoken by Ted Berndt

 Twas the night before Christmas; he lived all alone
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.

I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
and to see just who in this dwelling did live.

I looked all around, a strange sight to see -
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.

No stockings on the mantle, just boots filled with sand.

On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands,
medals and badges, awards of every kind.

A sobering thought came alive in my mind -
this house was different. It was dark, it was dreary.

I had found the home of a soldier. I could see that most clearly.

The soldier lay sleeping - silent, alone,
curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.

His face was so gentle, the room in such disorder.
Not at all how I pictured a United States soldier.

Was this the hero of whom I'd just read,
curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?

Then I realized the other families that I saw this night
owe their lives to soldiers who are willing to fight.

In the morning, around the world, children would play,
grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.

They all enjoy freedom each month of the year
because of soldiers like the one lying here.

I couldn't help but wonder how many lay alone
on this cold Christmas Eve in lands far from home.

The very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

The soldier awakened and I heard his rough voice,
"Santa don't cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom. I don't ask for more.
My life is my God, my country, my corps."

The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
but I couldn't control it and I continued to weep.

I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
as both of us shivered from the cold night's chill.

I didn't want to leave him on that cold, dark night -
this guardian of honor, so willing to fight.

Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure whispered
"Carry on Santa, it's Christmas day, all is secure."

One look at my watch and I knew he was right.
"Merry Christmas my friend. May God bless you this night."

The Walrus and the Carpenter

A poem by Lewis Carroll

The sun was shining on the sea,

Shining with all his might.

He did his very best to make

The billows smooth and bright - 

And this was odd, because it was

The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,

Because she thought the sun

Had got no business to be there

After the day was done.

"It's very rude of him," she said,

"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,

The sands were dry as dry.

You could not see a cloud, because

No cloud was in the sky.

No birds were flying overhead -

There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter

Were walking close at hand.

They wept like anything to see

Such quantities of sand.

"If this were only cleared away," 

They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops

Swept it for half a year,

Do you suppose," the Walrus said,

"That they could get it clear?"

"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,

And shed a bitter tear.

"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"

The Walrus did beseech.

"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,

Along the briny beach -

We can not do with more than four,

To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him,

But never a word he said.

The eldest Oyster winked his eye

And shook his heavy head -

Meaning to say he did not choose

To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,

All eager for the treat.

Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,

Their shoes were clean and neat -

And this was odd, because, you know,

They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,

And yet another four;

And thick and fast they came at last,

And more, and more, and more -

All hopping through the frothy waves,

And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter

Walked on a mile or so,

And then they rested on a rock

Conveniently low,

And all the little Oysters stood

And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,

"To talk of many things:

Of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax,

Of cabbages, and kings,

And why the sea is boiling hot,

And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,

"Before we have our chat - 

For some of us are out of breath,

And all of us are fat!"

"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.

They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,

"Is what we chiefly need.

Pepper and vinegar besides

Are very good indeed.

Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,

We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,

Turning a little blue.

"After such kindness, that would be

A dismal thing to do!"

"The night is fine," the Walrus said,

"Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come,

And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but

"Cut  us another slice.

I wish you were not quite so deaf -

I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,

"To play them such a trick,

After we've brought them out so far, 

And made them trot so quick!"

The carpenter said nothing but

"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said.

"I deeply sympathize."

With sobs and tears he sorted out

Those of the largest size,

Holding his pocket-handkerchief

Before his streaming eyes.

"O Oysters," said the Carpenter,

"You've had a pleasant run!

Shall we be trotting home again?"

But answer came there none -

And this was scarcely odd, because

They'd eaten every one.

Do It Anyway

A poem by Mother Teresa

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered.
Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies.
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you.
Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight.
Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow.
Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough.
Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis it is between you and God. 

It was never between you and them anyway.

High Flight

This is my favorite poem. It was written by John Magee, an American who joined the Canadian Air Force during the Battle of Britain, because the United States hadn't joined in the fighting. He was inspired to write this poem as he was flying his Spitfire over England at 30,000 feet, and once he landed he finished it and sent it in a letter to his parents. He died in 1941, at age 19, only a few months after writing this.

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

Of sun-split clouds,

And done a hundred things you have not dreamed of -

Wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence.

Hovering there, I've chased the shouting wind along,

And flung my eager craft through the footless halls of air.

Up, up the long delirious burning blue

I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark, or ever eagle flew.

And while with silent lifting mind

I've trod the high untrespassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand,

And touched the face of God.