Our Little Ghost a poem by Louisa May Alcott

Oft in the silence of the night, When the lonely moon rides high, When wintry winds are whistling, And we hear the owl's shrill cry, In the quiet, dusky chamber, By the flickering firelight, Rising up between two sleepers, Comes a spirit all in white. A winsome little ghost it is, Rosy-cheeked, and bright of eye; With yellow curls all breaking loose From the small cap pushed awry. Up it climbs among the pillows, For the "big dark" brings no dread, And a baby's boundless fancy Makes a kingdom of a bed. A fearless little ghost it is; Safe the night seems as the day; The moon is but a gentle face, And the sighing winds are gay. The solitude is full of friends, And the hour brings no regrets; For, in this happy little soul, Shines a sun that never sets. A merry little ghost it is, Dancing gayly by itself, On the flowery counterpane, Like a tricksy household elf; Nodding to the fitful shadows, As they flicker on the wall; Talking to familiar pictures, Mimicking the owl's shrill call. A thoughtful little ghost if is; And, when lonely gambols tire, With chubby hands on chubby knees, It sits winking at the fire. Fancies innocent and lovely Shine before those baby-eyes, Endless fields of dandelions, Brooks, and birds, and butterflies. A loving little ghost it is: When crept into its nest,

Its hand on father's shoulder laid, Its head on mother's breast, It watches each familiar face, With a tranquil, trusting eye; And, like a sleepy little bird, Sings its own soft lullaby.

Then those who feigned to sleep before Lest baby play till dawn, Wake and watch their folded flower Little rose without a thorn. And, in the silence of the night, The hearts that love it most Pray tenderly above its sleep, "God bless our little ghost!"

Our Little Ghost - a poem by Louisa May Alcott

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Written on the 22nd June 2008, this poem was a result of what was happening all around m Almost as if overnight one could see how people's lives have changed and started to fall apa Things were really starting to look bleak and dismal, driving me to my knees in search of God's help

God Will Make A Way

Lydia Preston

Society seems in a mess Mothers cry, while Fathers stress to be polite is a disgrace as children mock you to your face every day the papers show that crime and rape did upward go the things done in laboratories are stashed away in lavatories drugs and sex aren't hard to find it seems as if the worlds gone blind for what the people fail to see is messing up society as Dads no longer head their home and kids all sit, and chat by phone what once to all has been a home is looking like a war torn zone no longer do you find that kids are playing in the park for it's become a hideout place for gangsters after dark what once was right now seems so wrong no more joy and no more song as what this all was meant to be lies buried in a cemetery by telling you these things my aim is not to make you mad it's just to tell another truth which soon will make you glad amidst the chaos of this world

of hurt, despair and pain and hate along with treachery all done for selfish gain there's this one thing I know of believe with all my heart that when I bend my knees to pray my God will make a way