MASONIC POETRY
...............................
...............................
TO MY FELLOW TRAVELERS, THESE POEMS WERE WRITTEN BY VARIOUS MEMBERS OF OUR WONDERFUL CRAFT. ENJOY!
THE LAMBSKIN
It is not ornamental, the cost is not great,
There are things far more useful yet truly I state,
That of all my possessions there's none to compare,
With the white leather apron that all Masons wear.
As a young lad I wondered just what it all meant,
When Dad hustled round and so much time was spent.
On shaving and dressing and looking just right,
Until Mother would say, "It's the Masons tonight."
Then some nights she'd say "What makes you go,
Away up there tonight in the sleet and the snow.
You see the same things every month of the year."
And Dad would reply, "Yes I know it my dear."
For years I have seen the same things it is true,
And tho' they are old still they seem new.
For the hands that I clasp, and the friends that I greet,
Seem a little bit closer each time we meet.
Years later I stood at that very same door,
With good men and true, who had entered before.
I kneeled at the altar and there I was taught,
That virtue and honour can never be bought.
That the spotless white lambskin all Masons revere,
If worthily worn grows more precious each year.
That service to others brings blessings untold,
That men may be poor, tho' surrounded by gold.
I learned that true brotherhood flourishes there,
That enemies fade 'neath the compasses and square.
That wealth and position are all thrust aside,
As there on the level men meet and abide.
So, honour the lambskin and may it remain,
Forever unblemished and free from all stain.
And when we are called to the great Father's love,
May we all take our place in the Grand Lodge above.
Author: Unknown
"ARE YOU A MAN"
I do not ask my friend if you
Were born a Gentile or a Jew,
A Buddhist, or Mohammedian:
I only ask, are you a man?
It matters not, my friend, to me
If you are black as black can be,
Or colored red, or brown, or tan:
I ask but this, are you a man?
I care not, brother, whence you came,
Nor do I seek to know your name,
Your race, religion, creed or clan:
I want to know if you're a man.
I care not if you're homely quite,
Or handsome as an angle bright,
If you, throughout your little span,
Have only shown yourself a man.
I think that most men think like that:
They hate a weakling, loathe a rat;
They've always liked, since time began,
One who is first and last a man.
by W.R. Shields
I KNOW YOU!
Don't cover me up - don't take my light
I can tell who you are by day or by night
I can tell by your walk
I can tell by your talk
I can tell by how you stand
Or by the shake of your hand
If you are lost - I know where you can be found
All I have to do is take a look around
I know who you are if you tell me your age
Then I know what conversation we can engage
I can tell if there is a spider on your coat
That you are the man who had to ride the goat
If you can't read or write but you can spell
Then I know you very well
But there is something I want you to know
I am - the son of a widow
If you know from whence I hail
Then you are a man who is truly veiled
R. GOULD
