Monday, December 20, 2010

I found this poem in an old Ideals magazine, just like the one's my mom used to get. She may have even had this one. Don't remember. Explains exactly how I feel about words.

by Alice B. Dorland

I like a noun,
A good substantial word . . .
It brings to mind the things I've seen
And those I've heard.

Like spring and deer,
The melody of thrush,
Tree toads in the marsh,
Partridge in the brush . . .

The song of rain,
The campfire's crackle,
Hawk, duck, and great blue heron
And the conversation of the purple grackle.

I like an adjective.
It's like an April day.
It gives a noun its color and its form
In quite a charming way.

Vivid, melodic, brilliant,
Passive, raucous, plain,
Fresh, honest, youthful,
Innocent or vain.

Delicious and delightful,
Colorful and blest,
Or gray and dull and sorrowful,
The worst, also the best.

But oh, the verbs, those virile words,
They bring the nouns to life!
They may be words of action or of being,
Of peace or strife.

Like sing and run,
Laugh and cry,
Like dive or swim,
Or cast a fly,

Or write or read or trust,
Travel or rest,
To honor or to love,
Or fight with zest.

And as the noun, the adjective, the verb,
Is each dependent on the other,
So we, though we may stand alone,
Are ever needful of each other.

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