My ddil, Elsa, sent me some fun and cheery poems yesterday, and I thought I'd share them here. It seems always easier for me to write about the hard things right now, and all of you, gentle readers, deserve something fun and cheery from time to time...
These poems were written by Elsa while she was at Hillsdale, taking a lyric poetry class from Dr. Whalen. The first poem is a limerick just for him:
There once was a teacher named Whalen
Who terrified students of Hillsdale in
Their poetry class,
Which they're hoping to pass
With an A, or at least avoid failin'.
The next was written as an assignment. Apparently Dr. Whalen assigned a particular type of poem to be written, and said that the topic was unimportant. "You could write about how to make an egg"... Well, Elsa did. And here it is:
Instructions on an Omelet
It's not an easy task by far
to make an omelet well.
Misinformation wrecks the skill,
though cook might quick excel.
Your mother told you, I suspect,
that you should always add
a dash of milk unto your eggs—
Oh! No! it makes me sad.
The milk you add will not improve
the texture of that omelet.
It makes it fluffy, tender, brittle!
'Twill form it into crumblets!
If only scrambled was your goal,
the milk a help would be.
But if you want those eggs to fold,
then leave them liquid-free.
And then your eggs will stick and bend
Like all good omelets ought
To form the case in one whole piece
For fillings tasty hot.
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