Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE VILLAGE CLUB, by MRS. BOYD THORN


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO THE VILLAGE CLUB, by                    
First Line: Under the sunny eastern skies
Last Line: "and a ""memorial,"" as we planned."
Subject(s): Clubs (associations)


Under the sunny Eastern skies
This club of ours stands;
Governed by good officers,
The best in many lands.
The presidents could not be beat --
Have wills like iron bands.

We started many years ago
(I might say in September).
The dues were only fifty cents,
And I, a charter member.
We struggle on through thick and thin
To do whate'er we can --
We look the whole world in the face
For we owe not any man.

Month in, month out, most any day
You can hear this -- if you choose,
"Please bear in mind the meeting,
And don't forget your dues,"
Like a sexton ringing the village bell
To spread some welcome news.

We visited counsel many times
To help clean up the town.
And helped at many other things --
Were never yet turned down.
We tried to banish cigarettes
And, also, all the soaks,
But finally gave up in despair
'Cause everybody smokes.

And people coming from other clubs
Look in at our open door.
They marvel at the work we've done,
Go out and spread it o'er,
And catch the sparks of good that fly
Like chaff from a threshing floor.

We come on Tuesday to this room
And sit among our friends,
And hear the president preach and talk;
(We only say Amens).
We think we hear our daughter's voice
Singing in the Junior meeting;
It surely makes our hearts rejoice
And send to them a greeting.

We often think of the Juniors,
And know when we've finished the race,
They will be ready and willing
To step in and take our place.

Toiling, rejoicing, chattering --
Onward through years we go.
Each month we see some task begun
Even if it goes very slow.
Something attempted, something done;
We have earned a little dough.

Thanks, thanks, to thee, Our Women's Club,
For the lessons thou hast taught.
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought.
And as we pass off, one by one,
To the other land,
May we leave clean records, every one,
And a "Memorial," as we planned.





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