For your enjoyment!  Please email me if you have some poetry to add.

That Brothers on the Square

It matters not what your lot
Or what your task may be,
One duty there remains for you
One duty stands for me.
Be you a doctor skilled and wise,
Or do your work for wage,
A laborer upon the street,
An artist on the stage;
Our glory still awaits for you,
One honor that is fair,
To have men say as you pass by:
"That fellow's on the Square."
Ah, here's a phrase that stands for much
'Tis good old English too,
It means that men have confidence In everything you do,
It means that what you have you've earned,
And that you've done your best,
And when you go to sleep at night
Untroubled you may rest.
It means that conscience is your guide,
And honor is your care;
There is no greater praise than this:
"That fellow's on the Square."
And when I die
I would not wish A lengthy epitaph;
I do not wish a headstone large,
Carved with fulsome chaff,
Pick out no single deed of mine,
If such a deed there be,
To 'grave upon my monument,
For those who come to see,
Just this one phrase of all I choose,
To show my life was fair: 
Here sleepeth now a fellow who
Was always on the Square."

Author unknown        Top

The Sea Captain ~

I sailed my ship for many a day / across the stormy sea,
Many a ruffian I have carried / and never refused but three.
They met me on a summer day, / and saw my gallant ship,
And sought a passage to the other side / upon a hurried trip.
They offered all the dough they had, / mixed with a little sass,
That made me kinda hesitate, / and ask them for a pass,
They deemed a pass unnecessary / for men of their degree,
And insisted that I take my ship / and sail it out to sea.
An old man who was standing by, / and noted what they said,
Saw them kick me in the ribs / and strike me on the head.
He heard them say they'd steal a boat / and put it out to sea,
And sail away to the other side / to some strange countr'ee.
But no! The coward of the bunch / the one you'd think was brave,
Suggested that they turn again / and hide in a mountain cave.
And as the day went slowly by / I heard the truth in time,
I found that they were murderers / and guilty of a crime.
So as I sail my sturdy ship / until my life has ceased,
I know not whom my friends may be / unless they've traveled East
Anonymous         Top

A  Real Mason

My Brother, Masonry means more
Than just to wear a pin,
Or carrying a dues receipt
So the Lodge will let you in.

You wear an emblem on your coat,
And on your hand a ring.

But if your not sincere at heart
This doesn't mean a thing.

It's just an outward sign to show
The world that you belong
To this Fraternal Brotherhood
That teaches right from wrong.

What really counts lies buried deep
Within the human breast;
Masonic teaching brings it out
And puts it to the test.

If you can do outside the Lodge
The things you learn within,
Be just and upright to yourself
And to your fellow men;
Console a Brother when he's sick,
Or help him when in need
Without a thought of a reward
For any act or deed.

Conduct yourself in such a way
The world without can see
None but the best can meet the test
Laid down by Masonry.

Respect and live up to your trust
And do the best you can;
Then you can tell the world you are
A Mason and a Man!

By Brother Frank F. Baer   




There's a fine old Mason in the land, he's genial, wise and true,

His list of brothers comprehends, dear brothers, me and you;

So warm his heart the snow blast fails to chill his generous blood,

And his hand is like a giant's when outstretched to man or GOD; 

Reproach nor blame, nor any shame, has checked his course or dimmed his fame

All honor to his name!

This fine old Mason is but one of a large family:

In every lodge you'll find his kin, you'll find them two or three;

You'll know them when you see them, for they have their father's face,

A generous knack of speaking truth and doing good always;

Reproach nor blame, nor any shame, has checked their course or dimmed their fame -

Freemason is their name!

Ah, many an orphan smiles upon the kindred as they pass;

And many a widow's prayers confess the sympathizing grace;

The FATHER of this Brotherhood himself is joyed to see

Their works -they're numbered all in Heaven, those deeds of charity!

Reproach nor blame, nor any shame, there check their course or dim their fame -

All honor to their name!



They're traced in lines on the Parthenon,

Inscribed by the subtle Greek;

And Roman legions have carved them on

Walls, roads and arch antique;

Long ere the Goth, with vandal hand,

Gave scope to his envy dark,

The Mason craft in many a land

Has graven its Mason mark.  

The obelisk old and the pyramids,

Around which a mystery clings,-

The Hieroglyphs on the coffin lids

Of weird Egyptian kings,  

Syria, Carthage and Pompeii,

Buried and strewn and stark,

Have marble records that will not die,

Their primitive Mason mark.


Upon column and frieze and capital,

In the eye of the chaste volute, -

On Scotia's curve, or an astragal,

Or in triglyph's channel acute,-

Cut somewhere on the entablature,

And oft, like a sudden spark,

Flashing a light on a date obscure,

Shines many a Mason mark.


These craftsmen old had a genial whim,

That nothing could ever destroy,

With a love of their art that naught could dim,

They toiled with a chronic joy;

Nothing was too complex to essay,

In aught they dashed to embark;

They triumphed on many an Apian Way,

Where they'd left their Mason mark.


Crossing the Alps like Hannibal,

Or skirting the Pyrenees,

On peak and plain, in crypt and cell,

On foot or on bandaged knees; -

From Tiber to Danube, from Rhine to Seine,

They needed no "letters of marque;" -

Their art was their passport in France and Spain,

And in Britain their Mason mark.


The monolith gray and Druid chair,

The pillars and towers of Gael,

In Ogharn occult their age they bear,

That time can only reveal.

Live on, old monuments of the past,

Our beacons through ages dark!

In primal majesty still you'll last,

Endeared by each Mason mark.