Girl Scout Poems

Perhaps when she came home today you asked, "What did you do at Girls Scouts?"

When she replied, "Nothing but play", you were filled with doubts!

The weeks went by, you asked again, still she had no craft to show.

Then you began to wonder, why didn't they glue or sew?

For after all, it's dues each week, and driving here and there.

The uniform, permission slips, and cookie sale to share!

Ah... but she brought home much better things, that no glue or craft could make.

If only to lend a helping hand, when needed for someone's sake.

You see, although we think of Girl Scounting now, it really isn't "today"!

It's the Girl Scouting for tomorrow, and to help them explore a new way.

It's the caring, sharing, learning, growing, the Golden Rule is our thumb.

For she'll be the one with the helping hand, in the future years to come.

So, when she comes home the next time please, you can rest with a brand new start.

For the craft that she brought home today, is molded in her heart.


				*Girl Scouts of River Bluffs Council Troop #738, St. Libory, IL* Girl Scout Poems



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		WHAT SHE BROUGHT HOME FROM GIRL SCOUTS TODAY



		By Laura Hollenzer Perhaps when she came home today you asked, "What did you do at Girls Scouts?" When she replied, "Nothing but play", you were filled with doubts! The weeks went by, you asked again, still she had no craft to show. Then you began to wonder, why didn't they glue or sew? For after all, it's dues each week, and driving here and there. The uniform, permission slips, and cookie sale to share! Ah... but she brought home much better things, that no glue or craft could make. If only to lend a helping hand, when needed for someone's sake. You see, although we think of Girl Scounting now, it really isn't "today"! It's the Girl Scouting for tomorrow, and to help them explore a new way. It's the caring, sharing, learning, growing, the Golden Rule is our thumb. For she'll be the one with the helping hand, in the future years to come. So, when she comes home the next time please, you can rest with a brand new start. For the craft that she brought home today, is molded in her heart. TREES by Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918) I THINK that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree.