Year 1 Anthology 01 Fairy Lullabye from Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare 1564-1616 02 Under the Greenwood Tree by William Shakespeare 1564-1616 03 A Violet Bank by William Shakespeare 1564-1616 04 Who is Silvia? From Two Gentlemen of Verona by Shakespeare 1564 - 1616 05 If You See a Tiny Fairy by William Shakespeare 1564 - 1616 06 Jog on, Jog on from A Winter's tale by Shakespeare 1564 - 1616 07 Ariel's Song from The Tempest by Shakespeare 1564 - 1616 08 When Icicles Hang by the Wall from Love's Labor Lost by Shakespeare 1564 - 1616 09 Hark, Hark! the Lark from Cymbeline by Shakespeare 1564 - 1616 10 The Succession of the Four Sweet Months by Robert Herrick 1591-1674 11 Poem By Matthew Prior 1664-1721 12 Against Idleness and Mischief by Isaac Watts 1674 - 1748 13 For Want of a Nail, author unknown 14 The Tiger by William Blake 1757-1827 15 Spring by William Blake 1757-1827 16 Laughing Song by William Blake 1757-1827 17 The Fairy by William Blake 1757-1827 18 The Lamb by William Blake 1757-1827 19 Five Little Chickens A traditional English rhyme 20 A Boy's Song by James Hogg 1770 - 1835 21 Meg Merrilies by John Keats 1795-1821 22 Winter by John Keats 1795-1821 23 Lucy Gray by William Wordsworth 1770-1850 24 The Pin by Ann Taylor 1782-1866 25 Meddlesome Matty by Ann Taylor 1782-1866 26 The Star by Jane Taylor 1783 - 1824 27 Little Pussy by Jane Taylor 1783 - 1824 28 Abou Ben Adhem by Leigh Hunt 1784-1859 29 Sir Walter Scott 1771-1832 30 Lullaby of an Indian Chief by Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) 31 Allen-a-Dale by Sir Walter Scott 1771-1832 32 Hunter's Song by Sir Walter Scott 1771-1832 33 When Mother Reads Aloud (Anonymous) 35 Over in the Meadow by Olive Wordsworth 1800's 36 A Calendar by Sara Coleridge 1802 - 1852 37 The Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt 1799-1888 38 The Owl and The Pussycat by Edward Lear 1812-1888 39 Calico Pie by Edward Lear 1812-1888 40 The Jumblies by Edward Lear 1812-1888 41 The Duck and the Kangaroo by Edward Lear 1812 - 1888 42 The Pobble Who Has No Toes by Edward Lear 1812-1888 43 November by Alice Cary 1820-1871 44 Seven Times One by Jean Ingelow 1820-1897 45 July by Susan Hartley Swett, published in the 1880's 46 Old Mother Hubbard by Sarah Catherine Martin, published 1805 47 Weather (anonymous) 48 The Frog and the Centipede (Anonymous) 49 A bird came down the walk by Emily Dickinson 1830-1886 50 A Narrow Fellow in the Grass by Emily Dickinson 1830-1886 51 To Make a Prairie by Emily Dickinson 1830-1886 52 The Snow by Emily Dickinson 1830-1886 53 I'm Nobody! Who Are You? By Emily Dickinson 1830-1886 54 The Arrow and the Song by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1807-1882 55 The Brook by Alfred Lord Tennyson 56 The Eagle by Alfred Lord Tennyson 1809-1883 57 The Oak by Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1809-1883 58 Lady Moon by Richard Monckton Milnes 1809 - 1885 59 Pippa's Song by Robert Browning 1812-1889 60 The Blind Men and the Elephant A Hindu fable by John Godfrey Saxe 1816 - 1887 61 The Lost Doll by Charles Kingsley 1819 - 1875 62 The First Snowfall by James Russell Lowell 1819-1891 63 The Fountain by James Russell Lowell 1819-1891 64 Hurt No Living Thing by Christina Rossetti 1830-1894 65 What Is Pink? by Christina Rossetti 1830-1894 66 Who Has Seen the Wind? by Christina Rossetti 1830-1894 67 The Months by Christina Rossetti 1830-1894 68 "One, Two, Three" by Henry Cuyler Bunner 1855-1896 69 Little Things By Julia Fletcher Carney 1823 - 1908 70 Get up and Bar the Door (Traditional English) 71 Monday's child is fair of face, 72 Jemima (Anonymous - sometimes attributed to Longfellow) 73 The Twins by Henry Sambrooke Leigh 1837 - 1883 74 If No One Ever Marries Me by Laurence Alma-Tadema 1836 - 1912 75 My Shadow by Robert Louis Stevenson 1850-1894 76 The Swing by Robert Louis Stevenson 1850-1894 77 Little Boy Blue by Eugene Field 1850-1895 78 Wynken, Blynken and Nod by Eugene Field 1850-1895 79 The Duel by Eugene Field 1850-1895 80 Maker of Heaven and Earth by Cecil Frances Alexander 1818-1895 81 Robin Redbreast by William Allingham 1824-1889 82 The Fairies by William Allingham 1824-1889 83 Diamond's Song by George MacDonald 1824 - 1905 84 The Wind and the Moon by George Macdonald 1824 - 1905 85 The Walrus and the Carpenter by Lewis Carroll 1832-1898 86 Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll 1832-1898 87 A Baby's Feet by Algernon Charles Swinburne 1837-1909 88 Chickadee by Ralph Waldo Emerson 1803-1882 89 Fable by Ralph Waldo Emerson 1803 - 1882 90 When the Frost is On The Punkin by James Whitcomb Riley 1849 - 1916 91 The Raggedy Man by James Whitcomb Riley 1849-1916 92 The Little Elf by John Kendrick Bangs. 1862- published in 1919 93 Good Night! Good Night! By Victor Hugo 1802 - 1885 94 A Bunch of Roses by John Bannister Tabb 95 Baby Seed Song by E. Nesbit 1858 - 1924 96 White Fields by James Stephens published 1909 97 The Shell by James Stephens 1882 - 1950 98 Donnybrook by James Stephens 1882-1950 99 Velvet Shoes by Elinor Wylie 1885 - 1928 100 The Sea Gypsy by Richard Hovey 1864-1900 101 The Sandman by Margaret Thomson Janvier 1845-1913 102 Ducks Ditty by Kenneth Grahame 1859 -1932 103 The Cricket and the Ant Adapted from Aesop, author unknown 104 The Little Elf by John Kendrick Bangs (1862-1922) 105 The Elf and the Dormouse by Oliver Herford 1863 - 1935 106 The Chimpanzee by Oliver Herford 1863 - 1935 107 Faery Song by W. B. Yeats 1865 - 1939 108 The City of Falling Leaves Amy Lowell 1874-1925 109 Sea-shell by Amy Lowell 1874-1925 110 The Moon's the North Wind's Cooky by Vachel Lindsay 1879-1931 111 The Little Turtle by Vachel Lindsay 1879-1931 112 An Old Woman of the Roads by Padraic Colum 1881-1972 113 The Visitor by Rachel Field 1894-1942 114 City Rain by Rachel Field 1894-1942 115 The Animal Store by Rachel Field 1894-1942 116 Hipopotamus by Hillaire Belloc? 1870 - 1953 117 The Vulture by Hillaire Belloc 1870 - 1953 118 The Yak by Hillaire Belloc 1870 - 1953 119 The Frog by Hillaire Belloc 1870 - 1953 120 Henry King by Hillaire Belloc 1870 - 1953 121 Fairies by Rose Fyleman 1877 - 1957 122 Have you Watched the Fairies? By Rose Fyleman 1877 - 1957 123 The Fairies by Rose Fyleman 1877 - 1957 124 Singing-Time by Rose Fyleman 1877 - 1957 125 October by Rose Fyleman 1877 - 1957 126 Mice by Rose Fyleman 1877 - 1957 127 February Twilight by Sara Teasdale 1884 1933 128 The Falling Star by Sara Teasdale 1884 1933 129 Night by Sara Teasdale 1884 1933 130 The Faery Forest by Sara Teasdale 1884-1933 131 The New Duckling by Alfred Noyes 1880-1958 132 Smells by Christopher Morley 1890-1957 133 Song for a Little House by Christopher Morley 1890-1957 134 Animal Crackers by Christopher Morley 1890-1957 135 Trees by Joyce Kilmer 1886 - 1918 136 I Meant To Do My Work Today, by Richard Le Galliene 1866-1947 137 Afternoon on a Hill by Edna St. Vincent Millay 1892-1950 138 City Trees by Edna St. Vincent Millay 1892 - 1950 139 The Rainbow by Walter De La Mare 1873 - 1956 140 Bunches of Grapes by Walter de la Mare 1873-1956 141 The Pasture by Robert Frost 1874-1963 142 Fog by Carl Sandburg 1878-1967 143 Jazz Fantasia by Carl Sandburg 1878 - 1967 144 The Old Gumbie Cat by T. S. Eliot 1888-1965 145 April Rain Song by Langston Hughes 1902-1967 146 In Time of Silver Rain by Langston Hughes 1902-1967 147 Only One Mother by George Cooper 148 Mr. Nobody, author unknown 149 Bird Song by Laura E. Richards (daughter of Battle Hymn of the Republic's Julia Ward Howe)1850-1943 150 Eletelephony by Laura E. Richards (daughter of Battle Hymn of the Republic's Julia Ward Howe)1850-1943 151 The Cricket by Marjorie Barrows 152 Galoshes Rhoda W. Bacmeister 1893- 153 The Mitten Song by Marie Louise Allen 154 Little by Dorothy Aldis 155 Being Gypsy by Barbara Young 156 Let Others Share by Edward Anthony 157 There Once Was a Puffin by Florence Page Jaques 158 The Frogs Who Wanted a King by Joseph Lauren 159 April by Ted Robinson 160 The Mist and All by Dixie Willson 161 Autumn Song by Elizabeth Ellen Long 162 December by Aileen Fisher 163 Upside Down by Aileen Fisher 164 Ladybug by Joan Walsh Anglund 165 Ants, Although Admirable, Are Awfully Aggravating by Walter R. Brooks 166 Mud by Polly Chase Boyden 167 The Tale of Custard the Dragon by Ogden Nash 1902 - 1971 168 I'd Love To Be A Fairy's Child by Robert Graves 1895-1985 169 Hard from the southeast blows the wind by Elizabeth Coatsworth 1893- 1986 170 The plant cut down to the root by Elizabeth Coatsworth 1893- 1986 171 Swift things are beautiful by Elizabeth Coatsworth 1893- 1986 172 B How grey the rain by Elizabeth Coatsworth 1893- 1986 173 The warm of heart shall never lack a fire by Elizabeth Coatsworth 1893- 1986 174 John Henry anonymous 175 Casey Jones anonymous (around 1900) 176 Every Time I Climb A Tree by David McCord 1897-1997 __________ 01 Fairy Lullabye from Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare 1564-1616 You spotted snakes, with double tongue, Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong; Come not near our fairy queen; Philomel, with melody, Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! Never harm, Nor spell not charm, come our lovely lady nigh; So, good night, with lullaby. Weaving spiders, come not here; Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence; Beetles black, approach not near; Worm nor snail, do no offense. Philomel, with melody, Sing in our sweet lullaby; Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! Never harm, Nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady night; So, good night, with lullaby. __________ 02 Under the Greenwood Tree by William Shakespeare 1564-1616 Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat- Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats And pleased with what he gets- Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. __________ 03 A Violet Bank by William Shakespeare 1564-1616 I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows: Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine, With sweet musk roses and with eglantine. __________ 04 Who is Silvia? From Two Gentlemen of Verona by Shakespeare 1564 - 1616 Who is Silvia? what is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair and wise is she; The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness. Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness, And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling; She excels each mortal thing Upon the dull earth dwelling: To her let us garlands bring. __________ 05 If You See a Tiny Fairy by William Shakespeare 1564 - 1616 If you see a tiny faery, Lying fast asleep Shut your eyes And run away, Do not stay to peek! Do not tell Or you'll break a faery spell. __________ 06 Jog on, Jog on from A Winter's tale by Shakespeare 1564 - 1616 Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the stile-a: A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tires in a mile-a. __________ 07 Ariel's Song from The Tempest by Shakespeare 1564 - 1616 Where the bee sucks. there suck I: In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. __________ 08 When Icicles Hang by the Wall from Love's Labor Lost by Shakespeare 1564 - 1616 When icicles hang by the wall And Dick the shepherd blows his nail And Tom bears logs into the hall And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp'd and ways be foul, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow And coughing drowns the parson's saw And birds sit brooding in the snow And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit; Tu-who, a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. __________ 09 Hark, Hark! the Lark from Cymbeline by Shakespeare 1564 - 1616 Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise. __________ 10 The Succession of the Four Sweet Months by Robert Herrick 1591-1674 First, April, she with mellow showers Opens the way for early flowers; Then after her comes smiling May, In a more rich and sweet array; Next enters June, and brings us more Gems than those two that went before; Then, lastly, July comes, and she More wealth brings in than all those three. __________ 11 Poem By Matthew Prior 1664-1721 Sir, I admit your general rule That every poet is a fool; But you yourself may serve to show it, That every fool is not a poet. __________ 12 Against Idleness and Mischief by Isaac Watts 1674 - 1748 How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour, And gather honey all the day From every opening flower! How skillfully she builds her cell! How neat she spreads the wax! And labours hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labour or of skill, I would be busy too; For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play, Let my first years be passed, That I may give for every day Some good account at last. __________ 13 For Want of a Nail, author unknown, sometimes said to be Ben Franklin, but probably older. Possibly refers to a real battle in England- possibly the one where Richard III lost to Henry Tudor, crying "My horse, my horse, my kingdom for a horse!" For want of a nail, the shoe was lost, For want of the shoe, the horse was lost, For want of the horse, the rider was lost, For want of the rider, the battle was lost, For want of the battle, the kingdom was lost, And all for the want of a horseshoe nail! __________ 14 The Tiger by William Blake 1757-1827 Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, and what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart, And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears, And water'd heaven with their tears, Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? __________ 15 Spring by William Blake 1757-1827 Sound the flute! Now it's mute! Birds delight, Day and night, Nightingale, In the dale, Lark in sky, - Merrily, Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year. Little boy, Full of joy; Little girl, Sweet and small; Cock does crow, So do you; Merry voice, Infant noise; Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year. Little lamb, Here I am; Come and lick My white neck; Let me pull Your soft wool; Let me kiss Your soft face; Merrily, merrily we welcome in the year. __________ 16 Laughing Song by William Blake 1757-1827 When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy, And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; When the air does laugh with our merry wit, And the green hill laughs with the noise of it; When the meadows laugh with lively green, And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene; When Mary and Susan and Emily With their sweet round mouths sing 'Ha ha he!' When the painted birds laugh in the shade, Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread: Come live, and be merry, and join with me, To sing the sweet chorus of 'Ha ha he!' __________ 17 The Fairy by William Blake 1757-1827 Come hither my sparrows My little arrows If a tear or a smile Will a man beguile If an amorous delay Clouds a sunshiny day If the step of a foot Smites the heart to its root Tis the marriage ring Makes each fairy a king. So a fairy sung From the leaves I sprung He leap'd from the spray To flee away But in my hat caught He soon shall be taught Let him laugh let him cry He's my butterfly For I've pull'd out the Sting Of the marriage ring. __________ 18 The Lamb by William Blake 1757-1827 Little Lamb, who make thee Dost thou know who made thee, Gave thee life, and bid thee feed By the stream and o'er the mead; Gave thee clothing of delight, Softest clothing, wolly, bright; Gave thee such a tender voice, Making all the vales rejoice? Little Lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Little Lamb, I'll tell thee; He is called by thy name, For He calls Himself a Lamb He is meek, and He is mild, He became a little child I a child, and thou a lamb, We are called by His name. Little Lamb, God bless thee! Little Lamb, God bless thee! __________ 19 Five Little Chickens A traditional English rhyme Said the first little chicken, With a strange little squirm, "I wish I could find A fat little worm." Said the second little chicken, With an odd little shrug, "I wish I could find A fat little bug." Said the third little chicken, With a sharp little squeal, "I wish I could find Some nice yellow meal." "Said the fourth little chicken, With a sigh of grief, "I wish I could find A little green leaf." Said the fifth little chicken, With a faint little moan, "I wish I could find A wee gravel stone." "Now see here," said the mother, From the green garden patch, "If you want any breakfast, Just come here and SCRATCH!" __________ 20 A Boy's Song by James Hogg 1770 - 1835 Where the pools are bright and deep, Where the grey trout lies asleep, Up the river and over the lea, That's the way for Billy and me. Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That's the way for Billy and me. Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hay lies thick and greenest, There to track the homeward bee, That's the way for Billy and me. Where the hazel bank is steepest, Where the shadow falls the deepest, Where the clustering nuts fall free, That's the way for Billy and me. Why the boys should drive away Little sweet maidens from the play, Or love to banter and fight so well, That's the thing I never could tell. But this I know, I love to play Through the meadow, among the hay; Up the water and over the lea, That's the way for Billy and me. __________ 21 Meg Merrilies by John Keats 1795-1821 Old Meg she was a Gipsy, And liv'd upon the Moors: Her bed it was the brown heath turf, And her house was out of doors. Her apples were swart blackberries, Her currants pods o' broom; Her wine was dew of the wild white rose, Her book a churchyard tomb. Her Brothers were the craggy hills, Her Sisters larchen trees-- Alone with her great family She liv'd as she did please. No breakfast had she many a morn, No dinner many a noon, And 'stead of supper she would stare Full hard against the Moon. But every morn of woodbine fresh She made her garlanding, And every night the dark glen Yew She wove, and she would sing. And with her fingers old and brown She plaited Mats o' Rushes, And gave them to the Cottagers She met among the Bushes. Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen And tall as Amazon An old red blanket cloak she wore; A chip hat had she on. God rest her aged bones somewhere-- She died full long agone! __________ 22 Winter by John Keats 1795-1821 In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy Tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity: The north cannot undo them, With a sleety whistle through them; Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime. In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy Brook, Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look; But with a sweet forgetting, They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time. Ah! would 'twere so with many A gentle girl and boy! But were there ever any Writh'd not at passéd joy? To know the change and feel it, When there is none to heal it, Nor numbéd sense to steal it, Was never said in rhyme. __________ 23 Lucy Gray by William Wordsworth 1770-1850 Oft had I heard of Lucy Gray, And when I crossed the Wild, I chanced to see at break of day The solitary Child. No Mate, no comrade Lucy knew; She dwelt on a wide Moor, The sweetest Thing that ever grew Beside a human door! You yet may spy the Fawn at play, The Hare upon the Green; But the sweet face of Lucy Gray Will never more be seen. 'To-night will be a stormy night, You to the Town must go, And take a lantern, Child, to light Your Mother thro' the snow.' 'That, Father! will I gladly do; 'Tis scarcely afternoon-- The Minster-clock has just struck two, And yonder is the Moon.' At this the Father raised his hook And snapped a faggot-band; He plied his work, and Lucy took The lantern in her hand. Not blither is the mountain roe, With many a wanton stroke Her feet disperse the powd'ry snow That rises up like smoke. The storm came on before its time, She wandered up and down, And many a hill did Lucy climb But never reached the Town. The wretched Parents all that night Went shouting far and wide; But there was neither sound nor sight To serve them for a guide. At day-break on a hill they stood That overlooked the Moor; And thence they saw the Bridge of Wood A furlong from their door. And now they homeward turned, and cried 'In Heaven we all shall meet!' When in the snow the Mother spied The print of Lucy's feet. Then downward from the steep hill's edge They tracked the footmarks small; And through the broken hawthorn-hedge, And by the long stone-wall; And then an open field they crossed, The marks were still the same; They tracked them on, nor ever lost, And to the Bridge they came. They followed from the snowy bank The footmarks, one by one, Into the middle of the plank, And further there were none. Yet some maintain that to this day She is a living Child, That you may see sweet Lucy Gray Upon the lonesome Wild. O'er rough and smooth she trips along, And never looks behind; And sings a solitary song That whistles in the wind. __________ 24 The Pin by Ann Taylor 1782-1866 "Dear me! what signifies a pin! I'll leave it on the floor; My pincushion has others in, Mamma has plenty more: A miser will I never be," Said little heedless Emily. So tripping on to giddy play, She left the pin behind, For Betty's broom to whisk away, Or some one else to find; She never gave a thought, indeed, To what she might to-morrow need. Next day a party was to ride, To see an air-balloon! And all the company beside Were dress'd and ready soon: But she, poor girl, she could not stir, For just a pin to finish her. 'Twas vainly now, with eye and hand, She did to search begin; There was not one­not one, the band Of her pelisse to pin! She cut her pincushion in two, But not a pin had slidden through! At last, as hunting on the floor, Over a crack she lay, The carriage rattled to the door, Then rattled fast away. Poor Emily! she was not in, For want of just­a single pin! There's hardly anything so small, So trifling or so mean, That we may never want at all, For service unforseen: And those who venture wilful waste, May woeful want expect to taste. __________ 25 Meddlesome Matty by Ann Taylor 1782-1866 One ugly trick has often spoil'd The sweetest and the best; Matilda, though a pleasant child, One ugly trick possess'd, Which, like a cloud before the skies, Hid all her better qualities. Sometimes she'd lift the tea-pot lid, To peep at what was in it, Or tilt the kettle, if you did But turn your back a minute. In vain you told her not to touch, Her trick of meddling grew so much. Her grandmamma went out one day, And by mistake she laid Her spectacles and snuff-box gay Too near the little maid; "Ah! well," thought she, "I'll try them on, As soon as grandmamma is gone. " Forthwith she placed upon her nose The glasses large and wide; And looking round, as I suppose, The snuff-box too she spied: "Oh! what a pretty box is that; I'll open it," said little Matt. "I know that grandmamma would say, 'Don't meddle with it, dear;' But then, she's far enough away, And no one else is near: Besides, what can there be amiss In opening such a box as this? " So thumb and finger went to work To move the stubborn lid, And presently a mighty jerk The mighty mischief did; For all at once, ah! woful case, The snuff came puffing in her face. Poor eyes, and nose, and mouth, beside A dismal sight presented; In vain, as bitterly she cried, Her folly she repented. In vain she ran about for ease; She could do nothing now but sneeze. She dash'd the spectacles away, To wipe her tingling eyes, And as in twenty bits they lay, Her grandmamma she spies. "Heyday! and what's the matter now?" Says grandmamma, with lifted brow. Matilda, smarting with the pain, And tingling still, and sore, Made many a promise to refrain From meddling evermore. And 'tis a fact, as I have heard, She ever since has kept her word. __________ 26 The Star by Jane Taylor 1783 - 1824 Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are ! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. When the blazing sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. Then the trav'ller in the dark, Thanks you for your tiny spark, He could not see which way to go, If you did not twinkle so. In the dark blue sky you keep, And often thro' my curtains peep, For you never shut your eye, Till the sun is in the sky. 'Tis your bright and tiny spark, Lights the trav'ller in the dark : Tho' I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star. __________ 27 Little Pussy by Jane Taylor 1783 - 1824 I like little pussy, her coat is so warm; And if I don't hurt her, she'll do me no harm. So I'll not pull her tail, nor drive her away, But Pussy and I very gently will play. She shall sit by my side, and I'll give her some food; And she'll love me because I am gentle and good. I'll pat little Pussy, and then she will purr; And thus show her thanks for my kindness to her. I'll not pinch her ears, nor tread on her paw, Lest I should provoke her to use her sharp claw. I never will vex her, nor make her displeased - For Pussy can't bear to be worried or teased. __________ 28 Abou Ben Adhem by Leigh Hunt 1784-1859 Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold:-- Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?"--The vision raised its head, And with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." "And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so," Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then, Write me as one that loves his fellow men." The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blest, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. __________ 29 Sir Walter Scott 1771-1832 'Tis merry in Greenwood- thus runs the old lay,- In the gladsome month of lively May, When the wild birds' song on stem and spray Invites to forest bower; Then rears the ash his airy chest, Then shines the birch in silver vest, And the beech in glistening leaves is drest, And dark between shows the oak's proud breast, Like a chieftan's frowning tower; Though a thousand branches join their screen, Yet the broken sunbeams glance between, And tip the leaves with lighter green, With brighter tints the flowers; Dull is the heart that loves not then The deep recess of the wildwood glen, Where roe and red-deer find sheltering den, When the sun is in his power. __________ 30 Lullaby of an Indian Chief by Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) O hush thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight, Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright; The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see, They all are belonging, dear babie, to thee. O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo, O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo. O fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows, It calls but the warders that guard thy repose; Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red, Ere the step of a foeman drew near to thy bed. O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo, O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo. O hush thee, my babie, the time soon will come When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum; Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may, For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day. O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo, O ho ro, i ri ri, cadul gu lo. __________ 31 Allen-a-Dale by Sir Walter Scott 1771-1832 Allen-a-Dale has no faggot for burning, Allen-aDale has no furrow for turning, Allen-a-Dale has no fleece for the spinning, Yet Allen-a-Dale has red gold for the winning. Come read me my riddle! come, hearken my tale; And tell me the craft of bold Allen-a-Dale. The Baron of Ravensworth prances in pride, And he views his domains upon Arkindale side, The mere for his net, and the land for his game, The chase for the wild, and the park for the tame; Yet the fish of the lake, and the deer of the vale, Are less free to Lord Dacre than Allen-a-Dale! Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a knight, Though his spur be as sharp, and his blade be as bright; Allen-a-Dale is no baron or lord, Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at his word; And the best of our nobles his bonnet will vail, Who at Rere-cross on Stanmore meets Allen-a-Dale. Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come; The mother, she ask'd of his household and home: "Though the castle of Richmond stand fair on the hill, My hall," quoth bold Allen, "shows gallanter still; "Tis the blue vault of heaven, with it's crescent so pale, And with all it's bright spangles!" said Allen-a-Dale. The father was steel, and the mother was stone; They lifted the latch, and the bade him be gone; But loud, on the morrow, their wail and their cry: He had laugh'd on the lass with his bonny black eye. And she fled to the forest to hear a love-tale, And the youth it was told by was Allen-a-Dale! __________ 32 Hunter's Song by Sir Walter Scott 1771-1832 The toils are pitched, and the stakes are set, Ever sing merrily, merrily; The bows they bend, and the knives they whet, Hunters live so cheerily. It was a stag, a stag of ten, Bearing its branches sturdily; He came silently down the glen, Ever sing hardily, hardily. It was there he met with a wounded doe, She was bleeding deathfully; She warned him of the toils below, O so faithfully, faithfully! He had an eye, and he could heed, Ever sing so warily, warily; He had a foot, and he could speed-- Hunters watch so narrowly. __________ 33 When Mother Reads Aloud (Anonymous) When mother reads aloud the past Seems real as every day; I hear the tramp of armies vast, I see the spears and lances cast, I join the thrilling fray; Brave knights and ladies fair and proud I meet when mother reads aloud. "When mother reads aloud, far lands Seem very near and true; I cross the desert's gleaming sands, Or hunt the jungle's prowling bands, Or sail the ocean blue; Far heights, whose peaks the cold mists shroud, I scale, when mother reads aloud. "When mother reads aloud I long For noble deeds to do-- To help the right, redress the wrong, It seems so easy to be strong, so simple to be true, O, thick and fast the visions crowd When mother reads aloud. __________ 34 Four Seasons (Anonymous) Spring is showery, flowery, bowery. Summer: hoppy, choppy, poppy. Autumn: wheezy, sneezy, freezy. Winter: slippy, drippy, nippy. __________ 35 Over in the Meadow by Olive Wordsworth 1800's Over in the meadow, In the sand in the sun Lived an old mother toadie And her little toadie one "Wink!" said the mother; "I wink!" said the one, So they winked and they blinked In the sand in the sun Over in the meadow, Where the stream runs blue Lived an old mother fish And her little fishes two "Swim!" said the mother; "We swim!" said the two, So they swam and they leaped Where the stream runs blue Over in the meadow, In a hole in a tree Lived an old mother bluebird And her little birdies three "Sing!" said the mother; "We sing!" said the three So they sang and were glad In a hole in the tree Over in the meadow, In the reeds on the shore Lived an old mother muskrat And her little ratties four "Dive!" said the mother; "We dive!" said the four So they dived and they burrowed In the reeds on the shore Over in the meadow, In a snug beehive Lived a mother honey bee And her little bees five "Buzz!" said the mother; "We buzz!" said the five So they buzzed and they hummed In the snug beehive Over in the meadow, In a nest built of sticks Lived a black mother crow And her little crows six "Caw!" said the mother; "We caw!" said the six So they cawed and they called In their nest built of sticks Over in the meadow, Where the grass is so even Lived a gay mother cricket And her little crickets seven "Chirp!" said the mother; "We chirp!" said the seven So they chirped cheery notes In the grass soft and even Over in the meadow, By the old mossy gate Lived a brown mother lizard And her little lizards eight "Bask!" said the mother; "We bask!" said the eight So they basked in the sun On the old mossy gate Over in the meadow, Where the quiet pools shine Lived a green mother frog And her little froggies nine "Croak!" said the mother; "We croak!" said the nine So they croaked and they splashed Where the quiet pools shine Over in the meadow, In a sly little den Lived a gray mother spider And her little spiders ten "Spin!" said the mother; "We spin!" said the ten So they spun lacy webs In their sly little den __________ 36 A Calendar by Sara Coleridge 1802 - 1852 January brings the snow, Makes our feet and fingers glow. February brings the rain, Thaws the frozen lake again. March brings breezes, Loud and shrill, To stir the dancing daffodil. April brings the primrose sweet, Scatters daisies at our feet. May brings flocks of pretty lambs Skipping by their fleecy dams. June brings tulips, lilies, roses, Fills the childrens hands with posies. Hot July brings cooling showers, Apricots and gillyflowers. August brings the sheaves of corn, Then the harvest home is borne. Warm Septemper brings the fruit; Sportsmen then begin to shoot. Fresh October brings the pheasant; Then to gather nuts is pleasant. Dull November brings the blast; Then the leaves are whirling fast. Chill December brings the sleet, Blazing fire, and Christmas treat. __________ 37 The Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt 1799-1888 Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly, 'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy; The way into my parlour is up a winding stair, And I've a many curious things to shew when you are there." Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "to ask me is in vain, For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again." "I'm sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high; Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the Spider to the Fly. "There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin, And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in!" Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "for I've often heard it said, They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!" Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, " Dear friend what can I do, To prove the warm affection I 've always felt for you? I have within my pantry, good store of all that's nice; I'm sure you're very welcome -- will you please to take a slice?" "Oh no, no," said the little Fly, "kind Sir, that cannot be, I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!" "Sweet creature!" said the Spider, "you're witty and you're wise, How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes! I've a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf, If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself." "I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you 're pleased to say, And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day." The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den, For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again: So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly, And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly. Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing, "Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing; Your robes are green and purple -- there's a crest upon your head; Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!" Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly, Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by; With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew, Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue -- Thinking only of her crested head -- poor foolish thing! At last, Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast. He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den, Within his little parlour -- but she ne'er came out again! And now dear little children, who may this story read, To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed: Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye, And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly __________ 38 The Owl and The Pussycat by Edward Lear 1812-1888 The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea In a beautiful pea green boat, They took some honey, and plenty of money, Wrapped up in a five pound note. The Owl looked up to the stars above, And sang to a small guitar, 'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love, What a beautiful Pussy you are, You are, You are! What a beautiful Pussy you are!' Pussy said to the Owl, 'You elegant fowl! How charmingly sweet you sing! O let us be married! too long we have tarried: But what shall we do for a ring?' They sailed away, for a year and a day, To the land where the Bong-tree grows And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood With a ring at the end of his nose, His nose, His nose, With a ring at the end of his nose. 'Dear pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?'Said the Piggy,'I will.' So they took it away, and were married next day By the Turkey who lives on the hill. They dined on mince, and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon, The moon, The moon, They danced by the light of the moon. __________ 39 Calico Pie by Edward Lear 1812-1888 Calico Pie, The little Birds fly Down to the calico tree, Their wings were blue, And they sang 'Tilly-loo!' Till away they flew,- And they never came back to me! They never came back! They never came back! They never came back to me! Calico Jam, The little Fish swam, Over the syllabub sea, He took off his hat, To the Sole and the Sprat, And the Willeby-Wat,- But he never came back to me! He never came back! He never came back! He never came back to me! Calico Ban, The little Mice ran, To be ready in time for tea, Flippity flup, They drank it all up, And danced in the cup,- But they never came back to me! They never came back! They never came back! They never came back to me! Calico Drum, The Grasshoppers come, The Butterfly, Beetle, and Bee, Over the ground, Around and around, With a hop and a bound,- But they never came back to me! They never came back! They never came back! They never came back to me! __________ 40 The Jumblies by Edward Lear 1812-1888 They went to sea in a Sieve, they did, In a Sieve they went to sea: In spite of all their friends could say, On a winter's morn, on a stormy day, In a Sieve they went to sea! And when the Sieve turned round and round, And every one cried, `You'll all be drowned!' They called aloud, `Our Sieve ain't big, But we don't care a button! we don't care a fig! In a Sieve we'll go to sea!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. They sailed away in a Sieve, they did, In a Sieve they sailed so fast, With only a beautiful pea-green veil Tied with a riband by way of a sail, To a small tobacco-pipe mast; And every one said, who saw them go, `O won't they be soon upset, you know! For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long, And happen what may, it's extremely wrong In a Sieve to sail so fast!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. The water it soon came in, it did, The water it soon came in; So to keep them dry, they wrapped their feet In a pinky paper all folded neat, And they fastened it down with a pin. And they passed the night in a crockery-jar, And each of them said, `How wise we are! Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long, Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong, While round in our Sieve we spin!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. And all night long they sailed away; And when the sun went down, They whistled and warbled a moony song To the echoing sound of a coppery gong, In the shade of the mountains brown. `O Timballo! How happy we are, When we live in a Sieve and a crockery-jar, And all night long in the moonlight pale, We sail away with a pea-green sail, In the shade of the mountains brown!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. They sailed to the Western Sea, they did, To a land all covered with trees, And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cart, And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart, And a hive of silvery Bees. And they bought a Pig, and some green Jack-daws, And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws, And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree, And no end of Stilton Cheese. Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. And in twenty years they all came back, In twenty years or more, And every one said, `How tall they've grown! For they've been to the Lakes, and the Torrible Zone, And the hills of the Chankly Bore!' And they drank their health, and gave them a feast Of dumplings made of beautiful yeast; And every one said, `If we only live, We too will go to sea in a Sieve,--- To the hills of the Chankly Bore!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. __________ 41 The Duck and the Kangaroo by Edward Lear 1812 - 1888 Said the Duck to the Kangaroo, 'Good gracious! How you hop! Over the fields and the water too, As if you never would stop! My life is a bore in this nasty pond, And I long to go out in the world beyond! I wish I could hop like you!' Said the Duck to the Kangaroo. 'Please give me a ride on your back!' Said the Duck to the Kangaroo. 'I would sit quite still, and say nothing but "quack," The whole of the long day through! And we'd go to the Dee, and the Jelly Bo Lee, Over the land and over the sea; Please take me a ride! O do!' Said the Duck to the Kangaroo. Said the Kangaroo to the Duck, 'This requires some little reflection; Perhaps on the whole it might bring me luck, And there seems but one objection, Which is, if you'll let me speak so bold, Your feet are unpleasantly wet and cold, And would probably give me the roo- Matiz!' said the Kangaroo. Said the Duck, 'As I sat on the rocks, I have thought over that completely, And I bought four pairs of worsted socks Which fit my web feet neatly. And to keep out the cold I've bought a cloak, And every day a cigar I'll smoke, All to follow my own dear true Love of a Kangaroo?' Said the Kangaroo, 'I'm ready! All in the moonlight pale; But to balance me well, dear Duck, sit steady! And quite at the end of my tail!' So away they went with a hop and a bound, And they hopped the whole world three times round; And who so happy, O who, As the Duck and the Kangaroo? __________ 42 The Pobble Who Has No Toes by Edward Lear 1812-1888 The Pobble who has no toes Had once as many as we; When they said, 'Some day you may lose them all;'-- He replied, -- 'Fish fiddle de-dee!' And his Aunt Jobiska made him drink, Lavender water tinged with pink, For she said, 'The World in general knows There's nothing so good for a Pobble's toes! The Pobble who has no toes, Swam across the Bristol Channel; But before he set out he wrapped his nose, In a piece of scarlet flannel. For his Aunt Jobiska said, 'No harm 'Can come to his toes if his nose is warm; 'And it's perfectly known that a Pobble's toes 'Are safe, -- provided he minds his nose.' The Pobble swam fast and well And when boats or ships came near him He tinkedly-binkledy-winkled a bell So that all the world could hear him. And all the Sailors and Admirals cried, When they saw him nearing the further side,-- 'He has gone to fish, for his Aunt Jobiska's 'Runcible Cat with crimson whiskers!' But before he touched the shore, The shore of the Bristol Channel, A sea-green Porpoise carried away His wrapper of scarlet flannel. And when he came to observe his feet Formerly garnished with toes so neat His face at once became forlorn On perceiving that all his toes were gone! And nobody ever knew From that dark day to the present, Whoso had taken the Pobble's toes, In a manner so far from pleasant. Whether the shrimps or crawfish gray, Or crafty Mermaids stole them away -- Nobody knew; and nobody knows How the Pebble was robbed of his twice five toes! The Pobble who has no toes Was placed in a friendly Bark, And they rowed him back, and carried him up, To his Aunt Jobiska's Park. And she made him a feast at his earnest wish Of eggs and buttercups fried with fish;-- And she said,-- 'It's a fact the whole world knows, 'That Pebbles are happier without their toes.' __________ 43 November by Alice Cary 1820-1871 The leaves are fading and falling, The winds are rough and wild, The birds have ceased their calling, But let me tell you, my child, Though day by day, as it closes, Doth darker and colder grow, The roots of the bright red roses Will keep alive in the snow. And when the Winter is over, The boughs will get new leaves, The quail come back to the clover, And the swallow back to the eaves. The robin will wear on his bosom A vest that is bright and new, And the loveliest way-side blossom Will shine with the sun and dew. The leaves to-day are whirling, The brooks are dry and dumb, But let me tell you, my darling, The Spring will be sure to come. There must be rough, cold weather, And winds and rains so wild; Not all good things together Come to us here, my child. So, when some dear joy loses Its beauteous summer glow, Think how the roots of the roses Are kept alive in the snow. __________ 44 Seven Times One by Jean Ingelow 1820-1897 There's no dew left on the daisies and clover, There's no rain left in heaven: I've said my "seven times" over and over, Seven times one are seven. I am old, so old, I can write a letter, My birthday lessons are done, The lambs play always, they know no better, They are only one times one. O moon! in the night I have seen you sailing And shining so round and low, You were bright! ah, bright! but your light is failing-- You are nothing now but a bow. You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven That God has hidden your face? I hope if you have you will soon be forgiven, And shine again in your place. O velvet bee, you're a dusty fellow, You've powdered your legs with gold! O brave marsh marybuds, rich and yellow, Give me your money to hold! O columbine, open your folded wrapper, Where two twin turtledoves dwell! O cuckoo-pint, toll me the purple clapper that hangs in your clear, green bell! And show me your nest with the young ones in it, I will not steal them away, I am old! You may trust me, linnet, linnet-- I am seven times one today. __________ 45 July by Susan Hartley Swett, published in the 1880's When the scarlet cardinal tells Her dream to the dragonfly, And the lazy breeze makes a nest in the trees, And murmurs a lullaby, It's July. When The tangled cobweb pulls The cornflower's cap awry, And the lilies tall lean over the wall To bow to the butterfly, It's July. When the heat like a mist veil floats, And poppies flame in the rye, And the silver note in the streamlet's throat Has softened almost to a sigh, It's July. When the hours are so still that time Forgets them, and lets them lie Underneath petals pink till the night stars wink At the sunset in the sky, It's July. __________ 46 Old Mother Hubbard by Sarah Catherine Martin, published 1805 Old Mother Hubbard Went to the cupboard To fetch her poor dog a bone; But when she came there The cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog had none. She took a clean dish To get him some tripe; But when she came back He was smoking a pipe. She went to the grocer's To buy him some fruit; But when she came back He was playing the flute. She went to the baker's To buy him some bread; But when she came back The poor dog was dead. She went to the undertaker's To buy him a coffin; But when she came back The poor dog was laughing. She went to the hatter's To buy him a hat; But when she came back He was feeding the cat. The dame made a curtsey, The dog made a bow; The dame said, "Your servant." The dog said, "Bow wow!" __________ 47 Weather (anonymous) Whether the weather be fine Or whether the weather be not, Whether the weather be cold Or whether the weather be hot, We'll weather the weather Whatever the weather, Whether we like it or not. __________ 48 The Frog and the Centipede (Anonymous) A centipede was happy quite, until a frog in fun said: "Pray tell which leg comes after which?" This raised her mind to such a pitch, She lay distracted in a ditch, Considering how to run. __________ 49 A bird came down the walk by Emily Dickinson 1830-1886 A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew From a convenient grass, And then hopped sidewise to the wall To let a beetle pass. He glanced with rapid eyes That hurried all abroad,-- They looked like frightened beads, I thought; He stirred his velvet head Like one in danger; cautious, I offered him a crumb, And he unrolled his feathers And rowed him softer home Than oars divide the ocean, Too silver for a seam, Or butterflies, off banks of noon, Leap, splashless, as they swim. __________ 50 A Narrow Fellow in the Grass by Emily Dickinson 1830-1886 A narrow fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him, did you not, His notice sudden is. The grass divides as with a comb, A spotted shaft is seen; And then it closes at your feet And opens further on. He likes a boggy acre, A floor too cool for corn. Yet when a child, and barefoot, I more than once, at morn, Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash Unbraiding in the sun, When, stooping to secure it, It wrinkled, and was gone. __________ 51 To Make a Prairie by Emily Dickinson 1830-1886 To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do If bees are few __________ 52 The Snow by Emily Dickinson 1830-1886 It sifts from leaden sieves, It powders all the wood, It fills with alabaster wool The wrinkles of the road. It makes an even face Of mountain and of plain, Unbroken forehead from the east Unto the east again. It reaches to the fence, It wraps it, rail by rail, Till it is lost in fleeces; It flings a crystal veil On stump and stack and stem, The summer's empty room, Acres of seams where harvests were, Recordless, but for them. It ruffles wrists of posts, As ankles of a queen, Then stills its artisans like ghosts, Denying they have been. __________ 53 I'm Nobody! Who Are You? By Emily Dickinson 1830-1886 I'm nobody! Who are you? Are you nobody, too? Then there 's a pair of us-don't tell! They 'd banish us, you know. How dreary to be somebody! How public, like a frog To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog! __________ 54 The Arrow and the Song by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1807-1882 I shot an arrow into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For, so swiftly it flew, the sight Could not follow it in its flight. I breathed a song into the air, It fell to earth, I knew not where; For who has sight so keen and strong, That it can follow the flight of song? Long, long afterward, in an oak I found the arrow, still unbroke; And the song, from beginning to end, I found again in the heart of a friend. __________ 55 The Brook by Alfred Lord Tennyson I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally, And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, By twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges. Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go But I go on forever. I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret, By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow. I chatter, chatter as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go But I go on forever. I wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing, And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling. And here and there a foamy flake Upon me as I travel With many a silver water-break Above the golden gravel. And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go But I go on forever. I steal by lawns and grassy plots, I slide by hazel covers; I move the sweet forget-me-nots That grow for happy lovers. I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance, Among my skimming swallows; I make the netted sunbeam dance Against my sandy shallows. I murmur under moon and stars In brambly wildernesses; I linger by my shingly bars; I loiter round my cresses; And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go But I go on forever. __________ 56 The Eagle by Alfred Lord Tennyson 1809-1883 He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring'd with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls. __________ 57 The Oak by Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1809-1883 Live thy life, Young and old, Like yon oak, Bright in spring, Living gold; Summer-rich Then; and then Autumn-changed, Soberer hued Gold again. All his leaves Fall'n at length, Look, he stands, Trunk and bough, Naked strength. __________ 58 Lady Moon by Richard Monckton Milnes 1809 - 1885 "Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving?" "Over the sea." "Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving?" "All that love me." "Are you not tired with rolling and never Resting to sleep? Why look so pale and so sad, as for ever Wishing to weep?" "Ask me not this, little child, if you love me; You are too bold. I must obey my dear Father above me, And do as I'm told." "Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you roving?" "Over the sea." "Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you loving?" "All that love me." __________ 59 Pippa's Song by Robert Browning 1812-1889 The year's at the spring, And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hill-side's dew-pearl'd; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn; God's in His heaven-- All's right with the world! __________ 60 The Blind Men and the Elephant A Hindu fable by John Godfrey Saxe 1816 - 1887 It was six men of Indostan To learning much inclined, Who went to see the Elephant (Though all of them were blind), That each by observation Might satisfy his mind. The First approached the Elephant, And happening to fall Against his broad and sturdy side, At once began to bawl: `God bless me! but the Elephant Is very like a wall!' The Second, feeling of the tusk, Cried, `Ho! what have we here So very round and smooth and sharp? To me 'tis mighty clear This wonder of an Elephant Is very like a spear!' The Third approached the animal, And happening to take The squirming trunk within his hands, Thus boldly up and spake: `I see,' quoth he, `the Elephant Is very like a snake.' The Fourth reached out his eager hand, And felt about the knee. `What most this wondrous beast is like Is mighty plain,' quoth he; `'Tis clear enough the Elephant Is very like a tree!' The Fifth who chanced to touch the ear, Said: `E'en the blindest man Can tell what this resembles most: Deny the fact who can, This marvel of an Elephant Is very like a fan!' The Sixth no sooner had begun About the beast to grope, Than, seizing on the swinging tail That fell within his scope, `I see,' quoth he, `the Elephant Is very like a rope!' And so these men of Indostan Disputed loud and long, Each in his own opinion Exceeding stiff and strong, Though each was partly in the right, And all were in the wrong! So, oft in theologic wars, The disputants, I ween, Rail on in utter ignorance Of what each other mean, And prate about an Elephant Not one of them has seen! __________ 61 The Lost Doll by Charles Kingsley 1819 - 1875 I once had a sweet little doll, dears, The prettiest doll in the world; Her cheeks were so red and white, dears, And her hair was so charmingly curled. But I lost my poor little doll, dears, As I played on the heath one day; And I cried for her more than a week, dears, But I never could find where she lay. I found my poor little doll, dears, As I played on the heath one day; Folks say she is terribly changed, dears, For her paint is all washed away, And her arms trodden off by the cows, dears, And her hair not the least bit curled; Yet for old sake's sake, she is still, dears, The prettiest doll in the world. __________ 62 The First Snowfall by James Russell Lowell 1819-1891 The snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white. Every pine and fir and hemlock Wore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm tree Was ridged inch deep with pearl. __________ 63 The Fountain by James Russell Lowell 1819-1891 Into the sunshine, Full of the light, Leaping and flashing From morn till night! Into the moonlight, Whiter than snow, Waving so flower-like When the winds blow! Into the starlight, Rushing in spray, Happy at midnight, Happy by day! Ever in motion, Blithesome and cheery. Still climbing heavenward, Never aweary; -- Glad of all weathers, Still seeming best, Upward or downward, Motion thy rest; -- Full of a nature Nothing can tame, Changed every moment, Ever the same; -- Ceaseless aspiring, Ceaseless content, Darkness or sunshine Thy element; -- Glorious fountain! Let my heart be Fresh, changeful, constant, Upward, like thee! __________ 64 Hurt No Living Thing by Christina Rossetti 1830-1894 Hurt no living thing: Ladybird, nor butterfly, Nor moth with dusty wing, Nor cricket chirping cheerily, Nor grasshopper so light of leap, Nor dancing gnat, nor beetle fat, Nor harmless worms that creep. __________ 65 What Is Pink? by Christina Rossetti 1830-1894 What is pink? a rose is pink By the fountain's brink. What is red? a poppy's red In its barley bed. What is blue? the sky is blue Where the clouds float thro'. What is white? a swan is white Sailing in the light. What is yellow? pears are yellow, Rich and ripe and mellow. What is green? the grass is green, With small flowers between. What is violet? clouds are violet In the summer twilight. What is orange? why, an orange, Just an orange! __________ 66 Who Has Seen the Wind? by Christina Rossetti 1830-1894 Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you: But when the leaves hang trembling The wind is passing thro'. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I: But when the trees bow down their heads The wind is passing by. from Sing Song http://www.cs.cmu.edu/~mmbt/women/rossetti/singsong/singsong.html#who __________ 67 The Months by Christina Rossetti 1830-1894 January cold and desolate; February dripping wet; March wind ranges; April changes; Birds sing in tune To flowers of May, And sunny June Brings longest day; In scorched July The storm-clouds fly, Lightning-torn; August bears corn, September fruit; In rough October Earth must disrobe her; Stars fall and shoot In keen November; And night is long And cold is strong In bleak December. __________ 68 "One, Two, Three" by Henry Cuyler Bunner 1855-1896 It was an old, old, old, old lady And a boy that was half past three And the way that they played together Was beautiful to see. She couldn't go romping and jumping And the boy no more could he For he was a thin little fellow With a thin little twisted knee. They sat in the yellow sunlight Out under the maple tree Just as it was told to me. It was hide-and-go-seek they were playing Though you'd never have known it to be With an old, old, old, old lady And a boy with a twisted knee. The boy would bend his face down On his little sound right knee And he guessed where she was hiding In guesses One, Two Three. "You're in the china closet!" He would laugh and cry with glee... it wasn't the china closet, But he still had Two and Three. "You are up in Papa's big bedroom, In the chest with the funny old key!" And she said: "You are warm and warmer But you're not quite right," said she. "It can't be the little cupboard Where Mamma's things used to be... So it must be in the clothespress, Gram'ma!" And he found her with his Three. Then she covered her face with her fingers That were wrinkled and white and wee... And she guessed where the boy was hiding With a One and a Two and a Three. And they never had stirred from their places Right under the maple tree... This old, old, old, old lady And the boy with the lame litle knee... This dear, dear, dear, old lady And the boy who was half past three. __________ 69 Little Things By Julia Fletcher Carney 1823 - 1908 Little drops of water, Little grains of sand, Make the mighty ocean And the pleasant land. So the little moments, Humble though they be, Make the mighty ages Of eternity. So our little errors Lead the soul away From the path of virtue, Far in sin to stray. Little deeds of kindness, Little words of love, Help to make earth happy Like the heaven above. __________ 70 Get up and Bar the Door (Traditional English) It fell about the Martinmas time, And a gay time it was then, When our goodwife got puddings to make, And she 's boil'd them in the pan. The wind sae cauld blew south and north, And blew into the floor; Quoth our goodman to our goodwife, 'Gae out and bar the door.'- 'My hand is in my hussyfskap, Goodman, as ye may see; An' it shou'dna be barr'd this hundred year, It 's no be barr'd for me.' They made a paction 'tween them twa, They made it firm and sure, That the first word whae'er shou'd speak, Shou'd rise and bar the door. Then by there came two gentlemen, At twelve o' clock at night, And they could neither see house nor hall, Nor coal nor candle-light. 'Now whether is this a rich man's house, Or whether is it a poor?' But ne'er a word wad ane o' them speak, For barring of the door. And first they ate the white puddings, And then they ate the black. Tho' muckle thought the goodwife to hersel' Yet ne'er a word she spake. Then said the one unto the other, 'Here, man, tak ye my knife; Do ye tak aff the auld man's beard, And I'll kiss the goodwife.'- 'But there 's nae water in the house, And what shall we do than?'- 'What ails ye at the pudding-broo, That boils into the pan?' O up then started our goodman, An angry man was he: 'Will ye kiss my wife before my een, And sca'd me wi' pudding-bree?' Then up and started our goodwife, Gied three skips on the floor: 'Goodman, you've spoken the foremost word! Get up and bar the door.' __________ 71 Monday's child is fair of face, Tuesday's child is full of grace, Wednesday's child is full of woe, Thursday's child has far to go, Friday's child is loving and giving, Saturday's child works hard for its living, And the child that's born on the Sabbath day Is blithe and bonny and good and gay. Anonymous __________ 72 Jemima (Anonymous - sometimes attributed to Longfellow) There was a little girl, and she had a little curl, Right in the middle of her forehead. And when she was good, she was very very good, But when she was bad she was horrid. One day she went upstairs while her parents, unawares, In the kitchen down below were at their meals, And she stood upon her head, on her little trundle bed, And she then began hurraying with her heels. Her mother heard the noise, And thought it was the boys, A-playing at a combat in the attic, But when she climbed the stair and saw Jemima there, She took her and did spank her most emphatic! __________ 73 The Twins by Henry Sambrooke Leigh 1837 - 1883 In form and feature, face and limb, I grew so like my brother, That folks got taking me for him, And each for one another. It puzzled all our kith and kin, It reached a fearful pitch; For one of us was born a twin, Yet not a soul knew which. One day, to make the matter worse, Before our names were fixed, As we were being washed by nurse, We got completely mixed; And thus, you see, by fate's decree, Or rather nurse's whim, My brother John got christened me, And I got christened him. This fatal likeness even dogged My footsteps when at school, And I was always getting flogged, For John turned out a fool. I put this question, fruitlessly, To everyone I knew, "What would you do, if you were me, To prove that you were you?" Our close resemblance turned the tide Of my domestic life, For somehow, my intended bride Became my brother's wife. In fact, year after year the same Absurd mistakes went on, And when I died, the neighbors came And buried brother John. __________ 74 If No One Ever Marries Me by Laurence Alma-Tadema 1836 - 1912 If no one ever marries me - And I don't see why they should, For nurse says I'm not very pretty, And I'm seldom very good - If no one ever marries me I shan't mind very much, I shall buy a squirrel in a cage And a little rabbit hutch; I shall have a cottage near a wood, And a pony all my own And a little lamb, quite clean and tame, That I can take to town. And when I'm getting really old - At twenty-eight or nine - I shall buy a little orphan girl And bring her up as mine. __________ Robert Louis Stevenson 1850-1894 From A Child's Garden of verses ftp://wiretap.area.com/Library/Classic/child.rls The rain is raining all around, It falls on field and tree, It rains on the umbrellas here, And on the ships at sea. __________ 75 My Shadow by Robert Louis Stevenson 1850-1894 I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, And what can be the use of him is more than I can see. He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head; And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed. The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow-- Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball, And he sometimes goes so little that there's none of him at all. He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play, And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. He stays so close behind me, he's a coward you can see; I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me! One morning, very early, before the sun was up, I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup; But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed. __________ 76 The Swing by Robert Louis Stevenson 1850-1894 How do you like to go up in a swing, Up in the air so blue? Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing Ever a child can do! Up in the air and over the wall, Till I can see so wide, River and trees and cattle and all Over the countryside-- Till I look down on the garden green, Down on the roof so brown-- Up in the air I go flying again, Up in the air and down! __________ 77 Little Boy Blue by Eugene Field 1850-1895 The Little toy dog is covered with dust, But sturdy and stanch he stands; And the little toy soldier is red with rust, And the musket moulds in his hands. Time was when the little toy dog was new, And the soldier was passing fair; And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue Kissed them and put them there. "Now, don't you go till I come," he said, "And don't you make any noise!" So, toddling off to his trundle-bed, He dreamt of the pretty toys; And, as he was dreaming, an angel song Awakened our Little Boy Blue-- Oh! the years are many, the years are long, But the little toy friends are true! Aye, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand, Each in the same old place-- Awaiting the touch of a little hand, The smile of a little face; And they wonder, as waiting the long years through In the dust of that little chair, What has become of our Little Boy Blue, Since he kissed them and put them there. __________ 78 Wynken, Blynken and Nod by Eugene Field 1850-1895 Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe-- Sailed on a river of crystal light, Into a sea of dew. "Where are you going, and what do you wish?" The old moon asked the three. "We have come to fish for the herring fish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of silver and gold have we!" Said Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. The old moon laughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe, And the wind that sped them all night long Ruffled the waves of dew. The little stars were the herring fish That lived in that beautiful sea-- "Now cast your nets wherever you wish-- Never afeard are we"; So cried the stars to the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. All night long their nets they threw To the stars in the twinkling foam-- Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, Bringing the fishermen home; 'T\was all so pretty a sail it seemed As if it could not be, And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed Of sailing that beautiful sea-- But I shall name you the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, And Nod is a little head, And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies Is a wee one's trundle-bed. So shut your eyes while mother sings Of wonderful sights that be, And you shall see the beautiful things As you rock in the misty sea, Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. __________ 79 The Duel by Eugene Field 1850-1895 The gingham dog and the calico cat Side by side on the table sat; 'T was half-past twelve, and (what do you think!) Nor one nor t' other had slept a wink! The old Dutch clock and the Chinese plate Appeared to know as sure as fate There was going to be a terrible spat. (I was n't there; I simply state What was told to me by the Chinese plate!) The gingham dog went "bow-wow-wow!" And the calico cat replied "mee-ow!" The air was littered, an hour or so, With bits of gingham and calico, While the old Dutch clock in the chimney-place Up with its hands before its face, For it always dreaded a family row! (Never mind: I 'm only telling you What the old Dutch clock declares is true!) The Chinese plate looked very blue, And wailed, "Oh, dear! what shall we do!" But the gingham dog and the calico cat Wallowed this way and tumbled that, Employing every tooth and claw In the awfullest way you ever saw- And, oh! how the gingham and calico flew! (Don't fancy I exaggerate- I got my news from the Chinese plate!) Next morning where the two had sat They found no trace of dog or cat; And some folks think unto this day That burglars stole that pair away! But the truth about the cat and pup Is this: they ate each other up! Now what do you really think of that! (The old Dutch clock it told me so, And that is how I came to know.) __________ 80 Maker of Heaven and Earth by Cecil Frances Alexander 1818-1895 All things bright and beautiful, All creatures great and small, All things wise and wonderful, The Lord God made them all. Each little flower that opens, Each little bird that sings, He made their glowing colours, He made their tiny wings. The rich man in his castle, The poor man at his gate, God made them, high or lowly, And ordered their estate. The purple-headed mountain, The river running by, The sunset, and the morning, That brightens up the sky; The cold wind in the winter, The pleasant summer sun, The ripe fruits in the garden, He made them every one. The tall trees in the greenwood, The meadows where we play, The rushes by the water, We gather every day;-- He gave us eyes to see them, And lips that we might tell, How great is God Almighty, Who has made all things well. __________ 81 Robin Redbreast by William Allingham 1824-1889 Good-bye, good-bye to Summer! For Summer's nearly done; The garden smiling faintly, Cool breezes in the sun; Our Thrushes now are silent, Our Swallows flown away, -- But Robin's here, in coat of brown, With ruddy breast-knot gay. Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear! Robin singing sweetly In the falling of the year. Bright yellow, red, and orange, The leaves come down in hosts; The trees are Indian Princes, But soon they'll turn to Ghosts; The scanty pears and apples Hang russet on the bough, It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late, 'Twill soon be Winter now. Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear! And welaway! my Robin, For pinching times are near. The fireside for the Cricket, The wheatstack for the Mouse, When trembling night-winds whistle And moan all round the house; The frosty ways like iron, The branches plumed with snow, -- Alas! in Winter, dead and dark, Where can poor Robin go? Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear! And a crumb of bread for Robin, His little heart to cheer. __________ 82 The Fairies by William Allingham 1824-1889 UP the airy mountain Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting, For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather. Down along the rocky shore Some make their home, They live on crispy pancakes Of yellow tide-foam; Some in the reeds Of the black mountain-lake, With frogs for their watch-dogs, All night awake. High on the hill-top The old King sits; He is now so old and gray He's nigh lost his wits. With a bridge of white mist Columbkill he crosses, On his stately journeys From Slieveleague to Rosses; Or going up with music, On cold starry nights, To sup with the Queen, Of the gay Northern Lights. They stole little Bridget For seven years long; When she came down again Her friends were all gone. They took her lightly back Between the night and morrow; They thought she was fast asleep, But she was dead with sorrow. They have kept her ever since Deep within the lake, On a bed of flag leaves, Watching till she wake. By the craggy hill-side, Through the mosses bare, They have planted thorn trees For pleasure here and there. Is any man so daring As dig them up in spite? He shall find the thornies set In his bed at night. Up the airy mountain Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting, For fear of little men; Wee folk, good folk, Trooping all together; Green jacket, red cap, And white owl's feather. __________ 83 Diamond's Song by George MacDonald 1824 - 1905 What would you see if I took you up To my little nest in the air? You would see the sky like a clear blue cup Turned upside downwards there. What would you do if I took you there To my little nest in the tree? My child with cries would trouble the air, To get what she could but see. What would you get in the top of the tree For all your crying and grief? Not a star would you clutch of all you see -- You could only gather a leaf. But when you had lost your greedy grief, Content to see from afar, You would find in your hand a withering leaf, In your heart a shining star. __________ 84 The Wind and the Moon by George Macdonald 1824 - 1905 Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out! You stare In the air As if crying," Beware, "Always looking what I am about. I hate to be watched; "I will blow you out! "The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon. So deep On a heap Of clouds to sleep, Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon, Muttering low "I've done for that Moon" He turned in his bed; she was there again! On high In the sky With her one ghost-eye, The Moon shone white and alive and plain; Said the Wind, " I will blow you out again!" The wind blew hard, and the moon grew slim, "With my sledge And my wedge I have knocked off her edge! I will blow, said the Wind, "right fierce and grim, And the creature will soon be slimmer than slim!" He blew, and he blew, and she thinned to a thread. "One puff More's enough To blow her to snuff! One good puff more where the last was bred, And glimmer, glimmer, glum will go that thread" He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone, In the air Nowhere Was that moonbeam bare; Larger and clearer the shy stars shone; Sure and certain the Moon was gone! The wind he took to his revels once more; On down And in town, A merry-mad clown, He leaped and holloed with whistle and roar When there was that glimmering thread once more! He flew in a rage - he danced and he blew; But in vain Was the pain Of his bursting brain; For still the Moon-scrap the broader grew, The more that he swelled his big cheeks and blew, Slowly she grew - till she filled the night, And shone On her throne In the sky alone, A matchless, wonderful, silvery light, Radiant and lovely, queen of the night. __________ 85 The Walrus and the Carpenter by Lewis Carroll 1832-1898 THE sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright -- And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night. The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the day was done -- 'It's very rude of him.' she said, 'To come and spoil the fun!' The sea was wet as wet could be, The sands were dry as dry. You could not see a cloud, because No cloud was in the sky: No birds were flying overhead -- There were no birds to fly. The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand: They wept like anything to see Such quantities of sand: 'If this were only cleared away,' They said, 'it would be grand.' 'If seven maids with seven mops Swept it for half a year, Do you suppose,' the Walrus said, 'That they could get it clear?' 'l doubt it,' said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear. 'O Oysters, come and walk with us! The Walrus did beseech. 'A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, Along the briny beach: We cannot do with more than four, To give a hand to each.' The eldest Oyster looked at him, But never a word he said: The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head -- Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the oyster-bed. Out four young Oysters hurried up. All eager for the treat: Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat -- And this was odd, because, you know, They hadn't any feet. Four other Oysters followed them, And yet another four; And thick and fast they came at last, And more, and more, and more -- All hopping through the frothy waves, And scrambling to the shore. The Walrus and the Carpenter Walked on a mile or so, And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low: And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row. 'The time has come,' the Walrus said, 'To talk of many things: Of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing wax -- Of cabbages -- and kings -- And why the sea is boiling hot -- And whether pigs have wings.' 'But wait a bit,' the Oysters cried, 'Before we have our chat; For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat!' 'No hurry!' said the Carpenter. They thanked him much for that. 'A loaf of bread,' the Walrus said, 'Is what we chiefly need: Pepper and vinegar besides Are very good indeed -- Now, if you're ready, Oysters dear, We can begin to feed.' 'But not on us!' the Oysters cried, Turning a little blue. 'After such kindness, that would be A dismal thing to do!' 'The night is fine,' the Walrus said, 'Do you admire the view?' 'It was so kind of you to come! And you are very nice!' The Carpenter said nothing but 'Cut us another slice- I wish you were not quite so deaf- I've had to ask you twice!' 'It seems a shame,' the Walrus said, 'To play them such a trick. After we've brought them out so far, And made them trot so quick!' The Carpenter said nothing but 'The butter's spread too thick!' 'I weep for you,'the Walrus said: 'I deeply sympathize.' With sobs and tears he sorted out Those of the largest size, Holding his pocket-handkerchief Before his streaming eyes. 'O Oysters,' said the Carpenter, 'You've had a pleasant run! Shall we be trotting home again?' But answer came there none -- And this was scarcely odd, because They'd eaten every one. _______ 86 Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll 1832-1898 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. 'Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!' He took his vorpal sword in hand: long time the manzome foe he sought - so rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling throught the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head he went galumphing back. 'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!' He chortled in his joy. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. __________ 87 A Baby's Feet by Algernon Charles Swinburne 1837-1909 A baby's feet, like sea shells pink, Might tempt, should heaven see meet An angel's lips to kiss, we think, A baby's feet. Like rose-hued sea flowers toward the heat They stretch and spread and wink Their ten soft buds that part and meet. No flower bells that expand and shrink Gleam half so heavenly sweet, As shine on life's untrodden brink A baby's feet. __________ 88 Chickadee by Ralph Waldo Emerson 1803-1882 Then piped a tiny voice hard by, Gay and polite, a cheerful cry, "Chick-a-dee-dee!" a saucy note Out of sound heart and merry throat As if it said, "Good day, good sir! Fine afternoon, old passenger! Happy to meet you in these places Where January brings few faces. __________ 89 Fable by Ralph Waldo Emerson 1803 - 1882 The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel; And the former called the latter "Little Prig." Bun replied, "You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together To make up a year And a sphere. And I think it's no disgrace To occupy my place. If I'm not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track; Talents differ: all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nut." __________ 90 When the Frost is On The Punkin by James Whitcomb Riley 1849 - 1916 When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock, And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens, And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence; O, it's then's the times a feller is a-feelin' at his best, With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest, As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes to feed the stock, When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. They's something kindo' harty-like about the atmusfere When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is here -- Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees, And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees; But the air's so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days Is a pictur' that no painter has the colorin' to mock -- When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn, And the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn; The stubble in the furries -- kindo' lonesome-like, but still A-preachin' sermons to us of the barns they growed to fill; The strawsack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed; The hosses in theyr stalls below -- the clover overhead! -- O, it sets my hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock, When the frost is on the punkin, and the fodder's in the shock! Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps Is poured around the celler-floor in red and yeller heaps; And your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-folks is through With their mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and saussage, too! I don't know how to tell it -- but ef sich a thing could be As the Angles wantin' boardin', and they'd call around on me -- I'd want to 'commodate 'em -- all the whole-indurin' flock -- When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock! __________ 91 The Raggedy Man by James Whitcomb Riley 1849-1916 O the Raggedy Man! He works fer Pa; An' he's the goodest man ever you saw! He comes to our house every day, An' waters the horses, an' feeds 'em hay; An' he opens the shed -- an' we all ist laugh When he drives out our little old wobble-ly calf; An' nen -- ef our hired girl says he can -- He milks the cow fer 'Lizabuth Ann. -- Ain't he a' awful good Raggedy Man? Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! W'y, The Raggedy Man -- he's ist so good, He splits the kindlin' an' chops the wood; An' nen he spades in our garden, too, An' does most things 'at boys can't do. -- He clumbed clean up in our big tree An' shooked a' apple down fer me -- An' 'nother 'n', too, fer 'Lizabuth Ann -- An' 'nother 'n', too, fer The Raggedy Man. -- Ain't he a' awful kind Raggedy Man? Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! An' The Raggedy Man one time say he Pick' roast' rambos from a' orchurd-tree, An' et 'em -- all ist roast' an' hot! -- An' it's so, too! -- 'cause a corn-crib got Afire one time an' all burn' down On "The Smoot Farm," 'bout four mile from town -- On "The Smoot Farm"! Yes -- an' the hired han' 'At worked there nen 'uz The Raggedy Man! -- Ain't he the beatin'est Raggedy Man? Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! The Raggedy Man's so good an' kind He'll be our "horsey," an' "haw" an' mind Ever'thing 'at you make him do -- An' won't run off -- 'less you want him to! I drived him wunst way down our lane An' he got skeered, when it 'menced to rain, An' ist rared up an' squealed and run Purt' nigh away! -- an' it's all in fun! Nen he skeered ag'in at a' old tin can ... Whoa! y' old runaway Raggedy Man! Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! An' The Raggedy Man, he knows most rhymes, An' tells 'em, ef I be good, sometimes: Knows 'bout Giunts, an' Griffuns, an' Elves, An' the Squidgicum-Squees 'at swallers the'rselves: An', wite by the pump in our pasture-lot, He showed me the hole 'at the Wunks is got, 'At lives 'way deep in the ground, an' can Turn into me, er 'Lizabuth Ann! Er Ma, er Pa, er The Raggedy Man! Ain't he a funny old Raggedy Man? Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! An' wunst, when The Raggedy Man come late, An' pigs ist root' thue the garden-gate, He 'tend like the pigs 'uz bears an' said, "Old Bear-shooter'll shoot 'em dead!" An' race' an' chase' 'em, an' they'd ist run When he pint his hoe at 'em like it's a gun An' go "Bang! -- Bang!" nen 'tend he stan' An' load up his gun ag'in! Raggedy Man! He's an old Bear-shooter Raggedy Man! Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! An' sometimes The Raggedy Man lets on We're little prince-children, an' old King's gone To git more money, an' lef' us there -- And Robbers is ist thick ever'where; An' nen -- ef we all won't cry, fer shore -- The Raggedy Man he'll come and "'splore The Castul-halls," an' steal the "gold" -- An' steal us, too, an' grab an' hold An' pack us off to his old "Cave"! -- An' Haymow's the "cave" o' The Raggedy Man! -- Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! The Raggedy Man -- one time, when he Wuz makin' a little bow-'n'-orry fer me, Says "When you're big like your Pa is, Air you go' to keep a fine store like his -- An' be a rich merchunt -- an' wear fine clothes? -- Er what air you go' to be, goodness knows?" An' nen he laughed at 'Lizabuth Ann, An' I says "'M go' to be a Raggedy Man! -- I'm ist go' to be a nice Raggedy Man!" Raggedy! Raggedy! Raggedy Man! __________ 92 The Little Elf by John Kendrick Bangs. 1862- published in 1919 I met a little Elf-man, once, Down where the lilies blow. I asked him why he was so small, And why he didn't grow. He slightly frowned, and with his eye He looked me through and through. "I'm quite as big for me," said he, "As you are big for you." __________ 93 Good Night! Good Night! By Victor Hugo 1802 - 1885 Good night! Good night! Far flies the light; But still God's love Shall flame above, Making all bright. Good night! Good night! __________ 94 A Bunch of Roses by John Bannister Tabb The rosy mouth and rosy toe Of little baby brother Until about a month ago Had never met each other; But nowadays the neighbors sweet, In every sort of weather, Half way with rosy fingers meet, To kiss and play together. __________ 95 Baby Seed Song by E. Nesbit 1858 - 1924 Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother, Are you awake in the dark? Here we lie cosily, close to each other : Hark to the song of the lark - "Waken!" the lark says, "waken and dress you ; Put on your green coats and gay, Blue sky will shine on you, sunshine caress you - Waken! 'tis morning- 'tis May!" Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother, What kind of a flower will you be? I'll be a poppy - all white, like my mother; Do be a poppy like me. What! You're a sunflower! How I shall miss you When you're grown golden and high! But I shall send all the bees up to kiss you; Little brown brother, good-bye. __________ 96 White Fields by James Stephens published 1909 In the winter time we go Walking in the fields of snow; Where there is no grass at all; Where the top of every wall, Every fence and every tree, Is as white, as white can be. Pointing out the way we came, Everyone of them the same- All across the fields there be Prints in silver filigree; And our mothers always know, By our footprints in the snow, Where the children go. __________ 97 The Shell by James Stephens 1882 - 1950 And then I pressed the shell Close to my ear And listened well, And straightway like a bell Came low and clear The slow, sad murmur of the distant seas, Whipped by an icy breeze Upon a shore Wind-swept and desolate. It was a sunless strand that never bore The footprint of a man, Nor felt the weight Since time began Of any human quality or stir Save what the dreary winds and waves incur. And in the hush of waters was the sound Of pebbles rolling round, For ever rolling with a hollow sound. And bubbling sea-weeds as the waters go Swish to and fro Their long, cold tentacles of slimy grey. There was no day, Nor ever came a night Setting the stars alight To wonder at the moon: Was twilight only and the frightened croon, Smitten to whimpers, of the dreary wind And waves that journeyed blind- And then I loosed my ear ... O, it was sweet To hear a cart go jolting down the street. __________ 98 Donnybrook by James Stephens 1882-1950 I saw the moon, so broad and bright, Sailing high on a frosty night! And the air shone silvery between The pearly queen and the silver queen! And here a white, and there a white Cloud mist swam in a mist of light! And, all encrusted in the sky, High, and higher, and yet more high, Was gold and gold that glimmered through The hollow vault, the vault blue: And then I knew - that God was good, And the world was fair! And where I stood, I bent the knee, and bent the head; And said my prayers and went to bed. __________ 99 Velvet Shoes by Elinor Wylie 1885 - 1928 Let us walk in the white snow In a soundless space; With footsteps quiet and slow, At a tranquil pace, Under veils of white lace. I shall go shod in silk, And you in wool, White as a white cow's milk, More beautiful Than the breast of a gull. We shall walk through the still town In a windless peace; We shall step upon white down, Upon silver fleece, Upon softer than these. We shall walk in velvet shoes: Wherever we go Silence will fall like dews On white silence below. We shall walk in the snow. __________ 100 The Sea Gypsy by Richard Hovey 1864-1900 I am fevered with the sunset, I am fretful with the bay, For the wander-thirst is on me And my soul is in Cathay. There's a schooner in the offing, With her topsails shot with fire, And my heart has gone aboard her For the Islands of Desire. I must forth again to-morrow! With the sunset I must be Hull down on the trail of rapture In the wonder of the sea. __________ 101 The Sandman by Margaret Thomson Janvier 1845-1913 The rosy clouds float overhead, The sun is going down; And now the sandman's gentle tread Comes stealing through the town. "White sand, white sand," he softly cries, And as he shakes his hand, Straightway there lies on babies' eyes His gift of shining sand. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town. From sunny beaches far away - Yes, in another land - He gathers up at break of day His stone of shining sand. No tempests beat that shore remote, No ships may sail that way; His little boat alone may float Within that lovely bay. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town. He smiles to see the eyelids close Above the happy eyes; And every child right well he knows, - Oh, he is very wise! But if, as he goes through the land, A naughty baby cries, His other hand takes dull gray sand To close the wakeful eyes. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town. So when you hear the sandman's song Sound through the twilight sweet, Be sure you do not keep him long A-waiting in the street. Lie softly down, dear little head, Rest quiet, busy hands, Till, by your bed his good-night said, He strews the shining sands. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town. __________ 102 Ducks Ditty by Kenneth Grahame 1859 -1932 All along the backwater, Through the rushes tall, Ducks are a-dabbling. Up tails all! Ducks' tails, drakes' tails, Yellow feet a-quiver, Yellow bills all out of sight Busy in the river! Slushy green undergrowth Where the roach swim Here we keep our larder, Cool and full and dim. Every one for what he likes! We like to be Head down, tails up, Dabbling free! High in the blue above Swifts whirl and call We are down a-dabbling Up tails all! __________ 103 The Cricket and the Ant Adapted from Aesop, author unknown A silly young cricket accustomed to sing Through the warm sunny months of gay summer and spring, Began to complain, when he found that at home His cupboard was empty, and winter was come. Not a crumb to be found On the snow-covered ground; Not a flower could he see, Not a leaf on the tree; "Oh, what will become,"says the cricket, "of me?" At last, by starvation and famine made bold, All dripping with wet, and all trembling with cold, Away he set off to a miserly ant, To see if, to keep him alive, he would grant him shelter from rain, And a mouthful of grain. He wished only to borrow, He'd repay it to-morrow: If not, he must die of starvation and sorrow. Says the ant to the cricket, "I'm your servant and friend, But we ants never borrow; we ants never lend. But tell me, dear cricket, did you lay nothing by When the weather was warm?" Quoth the cricket, "Not I! My heart was so light That I sang day and night, For all nature looked gay." "You sang, sir, you say? Go, then," says the ant, "and dance winter away!" Thus ending, he hastily lifted the wicket, And out of the door turned the poor little cricket. Folks call this a fable. I'll warrant it true: Some crickets have four legs, and some have but two. __________ 104 The Little Elf by John Kendrick Bangs (1862-1922) I met a little Elf-man, once, Down where the lilies blow. I asked him why he was so small, And why he didn't grow. He slightly frowned, and with his eye He looked me through and through. "I'm quite as big for me," said he, "As you are big for you." __________ 105 The Elf and the Dormouse by Oliver Herford 1863 - 1935 Under a toadstool crept a wee Elf, Out of the rain to shelter himself. Under the toadstool, sound asleep, Sat a big Dormouse all in a heap. Trembled the wee Elf, frightened, and yet Fearing to fly away lest he get wet. To the next shelter - maybe a mile! Sudden the wee Elf smiled a wee smile, Tugged till the toadstool toppled in two. Holding it over him, gaily he flew. Soon he was safe home, dry as could be. Soon woke the Dormouse - " Good gracious me! "Where is my toadstool?" loud he lamented. And that's how umbrellas first were invented. __________ 106 The Chimpanzee by Oliver Herford 1863 - 1935 Children, behold the Chimpanzee: He sits on the ancestral tree From which we sprang in ages gone. I'm glad we sprang: had we held on, We might, for aught that I can say, Be horrid Chimpanzees to-day. __________ 107 Faery Song by W. B. Yeats 1865 - 1939 We who are old, old and gay, O so old! Thousands of years, thousands of years, If all were told: Give to these children, new from the world, Silence and love; And the long dew-dropping hours of the night, And the stars above: Give to these children, new from the world, Rest far from men Is anything better, anything better? Tell us it then; We who are old, old and gay, O so old! Thousands of years, thousands of years, If all were told. __________ 108 The City of Falling Leaves Amy Lowell 1874-1925 Leaves fall, Brown leaves, Yellow leaves streaked with brown. They fall, Flutter, Fall again. __________ 109 Sea-shell by Amy Lowell 1874-1925 Sea-shell, Sea-shell, Sing me a song, oh! Please! A song of ships, and sailormen, And parrots, and tropical trees; Of islands lost in the Spanish Main, Which no man ever may find again, Of fishes and corals under the waves, And seahorses stabled in great green caves. Oh, Sea-shell, Sea-shell, Sing of the things you know so well. __________ 110 The Moon's the North Wind's Cooky by Vachel Lindsay 1879-1931 The Moon's the North Wind's cooky. He bites it, day by day, Until there's but a rim of scraps That crumble all away. The South Wind is a baker. He kneads clouds in his den, And bakes a crisp new moon *that . . . greedy North . . . Wind . . . eats . . . again!* __________ 111 The Little Turtle by Vachel Lindsay 1879-1931 There was a little turtle. He lived in a box. He swam in a puddle. He climbed on the rocks. He snapped at a mosquito. He snapped at a flea. He snapped at a minnow. And he snapped at me. He caught the mosquito. He caught the flea. He caught the minnow. But he didn't catch me. __________ 112 An Old Woman of the Roads by Padraic Colum 1881-1972 O, to have a little house! To own the hearth and stool and all! The heaped-up sods upon the fire, The pile of turf against the wall! To have a clock with weights and chains And pendulum swinging up and down! A dresser filled with shining delph, Speckled and white and blue and brown! I could be busy all the day Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor, And fixing on their shelf again My white and blue and speckled store! I could be quiet there at night Beside the fire and by myself, Sure of a bed, and loath to leave The ticking clock and the shining delph! Och I but I'm weary of mist and dark, And roads where there's never a house or bush, And tired I am of bog and road, And the crying wind and the lonesome hush! And I am praying to God on high, And I am praying Him night and day, For a little house--a house of my own-- Out of the wind's and the rain's way. __________ 113 The Visitor by Rachel Field 1894-1942 Feather-footed and swift as a mouse An elfin gentleman came to our house; Knocked his wee brown knuckles upon our door; Bowed till his peaked cap swept the floor. His shiny eyes blinked bright at me As he asked for bread and a sup of tea. "And plenty of honey, please," he said, "For I'm fond of honey on my bread!" Cross-legged he sat, with never a word, But the old black kettle sang like a bird; The red geranium burst in bloom With the blaze of firelight in the room, The china rattled on every shelf, And the broom danced merrily all by itself. Quick to the pantry then I ran For to serve that elfin gentleman. I brewed him tea, I brought him bread With clover honey thickly spread. One sip he took, One elfin bite, But his ears they twitched with sheer delight. He smacked his lips and he smiled at me. "May good luck follow you, Child!" said he. He circled me round like a gay green flame Before he was off away he came, Leaving me there in the kitchen dim, Sighing and staring after him, With the fire low and the tea grown cold, And the moon through the window sharp and old, Only before me - instead of honey That bread was golden with thick-spread money! __________ 114 City Rain by Rachel Field 1894-1942 Rain in the city! I love to see it fall Slantwise where the buildings crowd Red brick and all. Streets of shiny wetness Where the taxies go, With people and umbrellas all Bobbing to and fro. Rain in the city! I love to hear it drip When I am cosy in my room Snug as any ship, With toys spread on the table, With a picture book or two, And the rain like a rumbling tomb that sings Through everything I do. __________ 115 The Animal Store by Rachel Field 1894-1942 If I had a hundred dollars to spend, Or maybe a little more, I'd hurry as fast as my legs would go Straight to the animal store. I wouldn't say, "How much for this or that?" "What kind of dog is he?" I'd buy as many as rolled an eye, Or wagged a tail at me! I'd take the hound with the drooping ears that sits by himself alone; Cockers and Cairns and wobbly pups For to be my very own. I might buy a parrot all red and green, And the monkey I saw before, If I had a hundred dollars to spend, Or maybe a little more. __________ 116 Hipopotamus by Hillaire Belloc? 1870 - 1953 Behold the hippopotomus. We laugh at how he looks to us, and yet in moments dark and grim, I wonder how we look to him. Peace, peace, thou hippopotomus, we really look all right to us, as you, no doubt, delight the eye of other hippopotomi. __________ 117 The Vulture by Hillaire Belloc 1870 - 1953 The Vulture eats between his meals, And that's the reason why He very, very, rarely feels As well as you and I. His eye is dull, his head is bald, His neck is growing thinner. Oh! what a lesson for us all To only eat at dinner! __________ 118 The Yak by Hillaire Belloc 1870 - 1953 As a friend to the children Commend me the Yak. You will find it exactly the thing: It will carry and fetch, you can ride on its back, Or lead it about with a string. The Tartar who dwells on the plains of Thibet (A desolate region of snow) Has for centuries made it a nursery pet, And surely the Tartar should know! Then tell you papa where the Yak can be got, And if he is awfully rich He will buy you the creature -- or else he will not. (I cannot be positive which.) __________ 119 The Frog by Hillaire Belloc 1870 - 1953 Be kind and tender to the Frog, And do not call him names, As "Slimy skin," or "Polly-wog," Or likewise "Ugly James," Or "Gap-a-grin," or "Toad-gone-wrong," Or "Bill Bandy-knees": The Frog is justly sensitive To epithets like these. No animal will more repay A treatment kind and fair; At least so lonely people say Who keep a frog (and, by the way, They are extremely rare). __________ 120 Henry King by Hillaire Belloc 1870 - 1953 The Chief Defect of Henry King Was chewing little bits of String. At last he swallowed some which tied Itself in ugly Knots inside. Physicians of the Utmost Fame Were called at once; but when they came They answered, as they took their Fees, ``There is no Cure for this Disease. ``Henry will very soon be dead.'' His Parents stood about his Bed Lamenting his Untimely Death, When Henry, with his Latest Breath, Cried, ``Oh, my Friends, be warned by me, That Breakfast, Dinner, Lunch, and Tea Are all the Human Frame requires...'' With that, the Wretched Child expires. __________ 121 Fairies by Rose Fyleman 1877 - 1957 There are fairies at the bottom of our garden! It's not so very, very far away; You pass the gardner's shed and you just keep straight ahead -- I do so hope they've really come to stay. There's a little wood, with moss in it and beetles, And a little stream that quietly runs through; You wouldn't think they'd dare to come merrymaking there-- Well, they do. There are fairies at the bottom of our garden! They often have a dance on summer nights; The butterflies and bees make a lovely little breeze, And the rabbits stand about and hold the lights. Did you know that they could sit upon the moonbeams And pick a little star to make a fan, And dance away up there in the middle of the air? Well, they can. There are fairies at the bottom of our garden! You cannot think how beautiful they are; They all stand up and sing when the Fairy Queen and King Come gently floating down upon their car. The King is very proud and very handsome; The Queen--now you can quess who that could be (She's a little girl all day, but at night she steals away)? Well -- it's Me! __________ 122 Have you Watched the Fairies? By Rose Fyleman 1877 - 1957 Have you watched the fairies when the rain is done Spreading out their little wings to dry them in the sun? I have, I have! Isn't it fun? Have you heard the fairies all among the limes Singing little fairy tunes to little fairy rhymes? I have, I have, lots and lots of times! Have you seen the fairies dancing in the air, And dashing off behind the stars to tidy up their hair? I have, I have; I've been there! __________ 123 The Fairies by Rose Fyleman 1877 - 1957 The fairies have never a penny to spend, They haven't a thing put by, But theirs is the dower of bird and flower And theirs is the earth and sky. And though you should live in a palace of gold Or sleep in a dried up ditch, You could never be as poor as the fairies are, And never as rich. Since ever and ever the world began They danced like a ribbon of flame, They have sung thier song through the centries long, And yet it is never the same. And though you be foolish or though you be wise, With hair of silver or gold, You can never be as young as the fairies are, And never as old. __________ 124 Singing-Time by Rose Fyleman 1877 - 1957 I wake in the morning early And always, the very first thing, I poke out my head and I sit up in bed And I sing and I sing and I sing. __________ 125 October by Rose Fyleman 1877 - 1957 The summer is over, The trees are all bare, There's is mist in the garden And frost in the air. The meadows are empty And gathered the sheaves- But, isn't it lovely Kicking up leaves. John from the garden Has taken the chairs; It's dark in the evening And cold on the stairs. Winter is coming And everyone grieves- But, isn't it lovely Kicking up leaves. __________ 126 Mice by Rose Fyleman 1877 - 1957 I think mice Are rather nice. There tails are long, Their faces small, They haven't any Chins at all. Their ears are pink, Their teeth are white, They run about The house at night. They nibble things They shouldn't touch And no one seems To like them much But I think mice Are Nice __________ 127 February Twilight by Sara Teasdale 1884 1933 I stood beside a hill Smoothe with new-laid snow, A single star looked out From the cold evening glow. There was no other creature That saw what I could see- I stood and watched the evening star As long as it watched me. __________ 128 The Falling Star by Sara Teasdale 1884 1933 I saw a star slide down the sky, Blinding the north as it went by, Too burning and too quick to hold, Too lovey to be bought or sold, Good only to make wishes on And then forever to be gone. __________ 129 Night by Sara Teasdale 1884 1933 Stars over snow, And in the west a planet Swinging below a star- Look for a lovely thing and you will find it. It is not far- It never will be far. __________ 130 The Faery Forest by Sara Teasdale 1884-1933 The faery forest glimmered Beneath an ivory moon, The silver grasses shimmered Against a faery tune. Beneath the silken silence The crystal branches slept, And dreaming thro' the dew-fall The cold white blossoms wept. __________ 131 The New Duckling by Alfred Noyes 1880-1958 "I want to be new," said the duckling. "Oho!" said the wise old owl, While the guinea hen cluttered off chuckling To tell all the rest of the fowl. "I should like a more elegant figure," That child of a duck went on. "I should like to grow bigger and bigger, Until I could swallow a swan. "I won't be the bondslave of habit, I won't have these webs on my toes. I want to run around like a rabbit A rabbit as red as a rose." "I don't want to waddle like mother, Or quack like my silly old dad. I want to be utterly other, And frightfully modern and mad." "Do you know," said the turkey, "you're quacking! There's a fox creeping up thro' the rye; And if you're not utterly lacking, You'll make for that duck pond. Good-by!" But the duckling was perky as perky, "Take care of your stuffing!" he called. (This was horribly rude to a turkey!) "But you aren't a real turkey," he bawled. "You'r an early-Victorian sparrow! A fox is more fun than a sheep! I shall show that my mind is not narrow And give him my feathers to keep." Now the curious end of this fable, So far as the rest ascertained, Though they searched from the barn to the stable, Was that only his feathers remained. So he wasn't a bondslave to habit, And he didn't have webs on his toes; And perhaps he runs round like a rabbit, A rabbit as red as a rose. __________ 132 Smells by Christopher Morley 1890-1957 Why is it that the poet tells So little of the sense of smell? These are the odors I love well: The smell of coffee freshly ground; Or rich plum pudding, holly crowned; Or onions fried and deeply browned. The fragrance of a fumy pipe; The smell of apples, newly ripe; And printer's ink on leaden type. Woods by moonlight in September Breathe most sweet, and I remember Many a smoky camp-fire ember. Camphor, turpentine, and tea, The balsam of a Christmas tree, These are whiffs of gramarye. . . A ship smells best of all to me! __________ 133 Song for a Little House by Christopher Morley 1890-1957 I'm glad our house is a little house, Not too tall nor too wide: I'm glad the hovering butterflies Feel free to come inside. Our little house is a friendly house. It is not shy or vain; It gossips with the talking trees, And makes friends with the rain. And quick leaves cast a shimmer of green Against our whited walls, And in the phlox, the dutious bees Are paying duty calls. More of Morley's poetry here: http://www.geocities.com/~spanoudi/poems/morley01.html __________ 134 Animal Crackers by Christopher Morley 1890-1957 Animal crackers, and cocoa to drink, That is the finest of suppers, I think; When I'm grown up and can have what I please I think I shall always insist upon these. What do you choose when you're offered a treat? When Mother says, "What would you like best to eat?" Is it waffles and syrup, or cinnamon toast? It's cocoa and animals that I love the most! The kitchen's the coziest place that I know: The kettle is singing, the stove is aglow, And there in the twilight, how jolly to see The cocoa and animals waiting for me. Daddy and Mother dine later in state, With Mary to cook for them, Susan to wait; But they don't have nearly as much fun as I Who eat in the kitchen with Nurse standing by; And Daddy once said he would like to be me Having cocoa and animals once more for tea! __________ 135 Trees by Joyce Kilmer 1886 - 1918 I think that I shall never see A poem as lovely as a tree A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed 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. __________ 136 I Meant To Do My Work Today, by Richard Le Galliene 1866-1947 I meant to do my work to-day -- But a brown bird sang in the apple-tree And a butterfly flitted across the field, And all the leaves were calling me. And the wind went sighing over the land, Tossing the grasses to and fro, And a rainbow held out its shining hand --- So what could I do but laugh and go? (From the anthology The Melody of Earth 1918) __________ 137 Afternoon on a Hill by Edna St. Vincent Millay 1892-1950 I will be the gladdest thing Under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers And not pick one. I will look at cliffs and clouds With quiet eyes, Watch the wind bow down the grass, And the grass rise. And when lights begin to show Up from the town, I will mark which must be mine, And then start down! __________ 138 City Trees by Edna St. Vincent Millay 1892 - 1950 The trees along this city street Save for the traffic and the trains, Would make a sound as thin and sweet As trees in country lanes. And people standing in their shade Out of a shower, undoubtedly Would hear such music as is made Upon a country tree. Oh, little leaves that are so dumb Against the shrieking city air, I watch you when the wind has come,-- I know what sound is there. __________ 139 The Rainbow by Walter De La Mare 1873 - 1956 I saw the lovely arch Of Rainbow span the sky, The gold sun burning As the rain swept by. In bright-ringed solitude The showery foliage shone One lovely moment, And the Bow was gone. __________ 140 Bunches of Grapes by Walter de la Mare 1873-1956 "Bunches of grapes," says Timothy, "Pomegranates pink," says Elaine; "A junket of cream and a cranberry tart For me," says Jane. "Love-in-a-mist," says Timothy, "Primroses pale," says Elaine; "A nosegay of pinks and mignonette For me," says Jane. "Chariots of gold," says Timothy, "Silvery wings," says Elaine; "A bumpety ride in a wagon of hay For me," says Jane. __________ 141 The Pasture by Robert Frost 1874-1963 I'm going out to clean the pasture spring; I'll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the water clear, I may): I shan't be gone long. -- You come too. I'm going out to fetch the little calf That's standing by the mother. It's so young, It totters when she licks it with her tongue. I shan't be gone long. -- You come too. __________ 142 Fog by Carl Sandburg 1878-1967 The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on. __________ 143 Jazz Fantasia by Carl Sandburg 1878 - 1967 Drum on your drums, batter on your banjoes, Sob on the long cool winding saxophones. Go to it, O jazzmen. Sling your knuckles on the bottoms of the happy tin pans, Let your trombones ooze, And go hushahusha-hush with the slippery sand-paper. Moan like an autumn wind high in the lonesome tree-tops, Moan soft like you wanted somebody terrible, Cry like a racing car slipping away from a motorcycle cop, Bang-bang! you jazzmen, Bang altogether drums, traps, banjoes, horns, tin cans- Make two people fight on the top of a stairway And scratch each other's eyes in a clinch tumbling down the stairs. Can the rough stuff ... Now a Mississippi steamboat pushes up the night river With a hoo-hoo-hoo-oo ... And the green lanterns calling to the high soft stars ... A red moon rides on the humps of the low river hills ... Go to it, O jazzmen. __________ 144 The Old Gumbie Cat by T. S. Eliot 1888-1965 I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots; Her coat is of the tabby kind, with tiger stripes and leopard spots. All day she sits upon the stair or on the steps or on the mat; She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat! But when the day's hustle and bustle is done, Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun. And when all the family's in bed and asleep, She tucks up her skirts to the basement to creep. She is deeply concerned with the ways of the mice-- Their behaviour's not good and their manners not nice; So when she has got them lined up on the matting, She teachs them music, crocheting and tatting. I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots; Her equal would be hard to find, she likes the warm and sunny spots. All day she sits beside the hearth or on the bed or on my hat: She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat! But when the day's hustle and bustle is done, Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun. As she finds that the mice will not ever keep quiet, She is sure it is due to irregular diet; And believing that nothing is done without trying, She sets right to work with her baking and frying. She makes them a mouse--cake of bread and dried peas, And a beautiful fry of lean bacon and cheese. I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots; The curtain-cord she likes to wind, and tie it into sailor-knots. She sits upon the window-sill, or anything that's smooth and flat: She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat! But when the day's hustle and bustle is done, Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun. She thinks that the cockroaches just need employment To prevent them from idle and wanton destroyment. So she's formed, from that lot of disorderly louts, A troop of well-disciplined helpful boy-scouts, With a purpose in life and a good deed to do-- And she's even created a Beetles' Tattoo. So for Old Gumbie Cats let us now give three cheers-- On whom well-ordered households depend, it appears. __________ 145 April Rain Song by Langston Hughes 1902-1967 Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon you head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk. The rain makes running pools in the gutter. The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roor at night - And I love the rain. __________ 146 In Time of Silver Rain by Langston Hughes 1902-1967 In time of silver rain The earth Puts forth new life again, Green grasses grow And flowers lift their heads, And over all the plain The wonder spreads Of life, Of life, Of life! In time of silver rain The butterflies Lift silken wings To catch a rainbow cry, And trees put forth New leaves to sing In joy beneath the sky As down the roadway Passing boy and girls Go singing too, In time of silver rain When spring And life Are new __________ 147 Only One Mother by George Cooper Hundreds of stars in the pretty sky. Hundreds of shells on the shore together. Hundreds of birds that go singing by. Hundreds of lambs in the sunny weather. Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the dawn, Hundreds of bees to greet the clover. Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn. But only one mother the whole world over. __________ 148 Mr. Nobody, author unknown I know a funny little man As quiet as a mouse He does the mischief that is done In everybody's house. Though no one ever sees his face Yet one and all agree That every plate we break was cracked By Mr Nobody 'Tis he who always tears our books Who leaves the door ajar. He picks the buttons from our shirts And scatters pins afar. That squeaking door will always squeak - For prithee, don't you see? We leave the oiling to be done By Mr Nobody. He puts damp wood upon the fire That kettles will not boil: His are the feet that bring in mud And all the carpets soil. The papers that so oft are lost - Who had them last but he? There's no one tosses them about But Mr Nobody. The fingermarks upon the door By none of us were made. We never leave the blinds unclosed To let the curtains fade. The ink we never spill! The boots That lying round you see Are not our boots - they all belong To Mr Nobody. __________ 149 Bird Song by Laura E. Richards (daughter of Battle Hymn of the Republic's Julia Ward Howe)1850-1943 The robin sings of willow-buds, Of snowflakes on the green; The bluebird sings of Mayflowers, The crackling leaves between; The veery has a thousand tales To tell to girl and boy; But the oriole, the oriole, Sings, "Joy! joy! joy!" The pewee calls his little mate, Sweet Phoebe, gone astray, The warbler sings, "What fun, what fun, To tilt upon the spray!" The cuckoo has no song, but clucks, Like any wooden toy; But the oriole, the oriole, Sings, "Joy! joy! joy!" The grosbeak sings the rose's birth, And paints her on his breast; The sparrow sings of speckled eggs, Soft brooded in the nest. The wood-thrush sings of peace, "Sweet peace, Sweet peace," without alloy; But the oriole, the oriole, Sings "Joy! joy! joy!" __________ 150 Eletelephony by Laura E. Richards (daughter of Battle Hymn of the Republic's Julia Ward Howe)1850-1943 Once there was an elephant, Who tried to use the telephant... No! no! I mean an elephone Who tried to use the telephone... (Dear me! I am not certain quite That even now I've got it right.) Howe'er it was, he got his trunk Entangled in the telephunk; The more he tried to get it free, The louder buzzed the telephee... (I fear I'd better drop the song Of elephop and telephong!!!!!) __________ 151 The Cricket by Marjorie Barrows And when the rain had gone away And it was shining everywhere, I ran out on the walk to play And found a little bug was there. And she was running just as fast As any little bug could run, Until she stopped for breath at last, All black and shiny in the sun. And then she chirped a song to me And gave her wings a little tug, And that's the way she showed that she Was very glad to be a bug! __________ 152 Galoshes Rhoda W. Bacmeister 1893- Susie's galoshes Make splishes and sploshes And slooshes and sloshes, As Susie steps slowly Along in the slush. They stamp and they tramp On the ice and concrete, They get stuck in the muck and the mud; But Susie likes much best to hear The slippery slush As it slooshes and sloshes, And splishes and sploshes, All round her galoshes! __________ 153 The Mitten Song by Marie Louise Allen "Thumbs in the thumb-place, Fingers all together!" This is the song We sing in mitten-weather. When it is cold, It doesn't matter whether Mittens are wool, Or made of finest leather. This is the song We sing in mitten-weather: "Thumbs in the thumb-place, Fingers all together!" __________ 154 Little by Dorothy Aldis I am the sister of him And he is my brother. He is too little for us to talk To each other. So every morning I show him My doll and my book; But every morning He still is too little to look __________ 155 Being Gypsy by Barbara Young A gypsy, a gypsy, Is what I'd like to be, If ever I could find one who Would change his place with me. Rings on my fingers Earrings in my ears. Rough shoes to roam the world For year and years and years. I'd listen to the stars, I'd listen to the dawn, I'd listen to the tunes of wind and rain, The talk of fox and faun. A gypsy, a gypsy! To ramble and to roam For maybe---oh, A week or so--- And then I'd hie me home! __________ 156 Let Others Share by Edward Anthony Let others share your toys, my son, Do not insist on all the fun. For if you do it's certain that You'll grow to be an adult brat. __________ 157 There Once Was a Puffin by Florence Page Jaques Oh, there once was a Puffin Just the shape of a muffin, And he lived on an island In the bright blue sea! He ate little fishes, That were most delicious, And he had then for supper And he had them for tea. But this poor little Puffin, He couldn't play nothin', For he hadn't anybody To play with at all. So he sat on his island And he cried for a while, and He felt very lonely, And he felt very small. Then along came the fishes, And they said, "If you wishes, You can have us for playmates Instead of for tea!" So they now play together, In all sorts of weather, And the Puffin eats pancakes, Like you and like me. __________ 158 The Frogs Who Wanted a King by Joseph Lauren The frogs were living happy as could be In a wet marsh to which they all were suited; From every sort of trouble they were free, And all night long they croaked, and honked, and hooted. But one fine day a bull-frog said, "The thing We never had and must have is a king!" So all the frogs immediately prayed; "Great Jove," they chorused from their swampy border, "Send us a king and he will be obeyed, A king to bring a rule of Law and Order." Jove heard and chuckled. That night in the bog There fell a long and most impressive Log. The swamp was silent; nothing breathed. At first The badly frightened frogs did never once stir; But gradually some neared and even durst To touch, aye, even dance upon, the monster. Whereat they croaked again, "Great Jove, oh hear! Send us a living king, a king to fear!" Once more Jove smiled, and sent them down a Stork. "Long live-!" they croaked. But ere they framed the sentence, The Stork bent down and, scorning knife or fork, Swallowed them all, with no time for repentance! The moral's this: No matter what your lot, It might be worse. Be glad with what you've got. __________ 159 April by Ted Robinson So here we are in April, in showy, blowy April, In frowsy, blowsy April, the rowdy dowdy time In soppy, sloppy April, in wheezy breezy April, In ringing, stinging April, with a singing swinging rhyme. The smiling sun of April on the violets is focal, The sudden showers of April seek the dandelion out; The tender airs of April make the local yokel vocal, And he raises rustic ditties with a most melodious shout. So here we are in April, in tipsy gypsy April, In showery, flowery April, the twinkly, sprinkly days; In tingly, jingly April, in highly wily April, In mighty, flighty April with its highty-tighty ways! The duck is fond of April, and the clucking chickabiddy And other barnyard creatures have a try at caroling; There's something in the air to turn a stiddy kiddy giddy, And even I am forced to raise my croaking voice and sing. __________ 160 The Mist and All by Dixie Willson I like the fall, The mist and all. I like the night owl's Lonely call -- And wailing sound Of wind around. I like the gray November day And bare dead boughs That coldly sway Against my pane. I like the rain. I like to sit And laugh at it -- And tend My cozy fire a bit. I like the fall -- The mist and all. __________ 161 Autumn Song by Elizabeth Ellen Long These are the days of fallen leaves, The days of hazy weather, Smelling of chrysanthemums And gray wood-smoke together. These are the nights of nearby stars, the nights of closer moons, When the windy darkness echoes To cricket's farewell tunes. __________ 162 December by Aileen Fisher I like days with a snow-white collar, and nights when the moon is a silver dollar, and hills are filled with eiderdown stuffing and your breath makes smoke like an engine puffing. I like days when feathers are snowing, and all the eaves have petticoats showing, and the air is cold, and the wires are humming, but you feel all warm... with Christmas coming! __________ 163 Upside Down by Aileen Fisher It's funny how beetles and creatures like that can walk upside down as well as walk flat. They crawl on a ceiling and climb on a wall without any practice or trouble at all. While I have been trying for a year (maybe more) and still I can't stand with my head on the floor. __________ 164 Ladybug by Joan Walsh Anglund A small speckled visitor Wearing a crimson cape, Brighter than a cherry, Smaller than a grape. A polka-dotted someone Walking on my wall, A black-hooded lady In a scarlet shawl. __________ 165 Ants, Although Admirable, Are Awfully Aggravating by Walter R. Brooks The busy ant works hard all day And never stops to rest or play. He carries things ten times his size, And never grumbles, whines or cries. And even climbing flower stalks, He always runs, he never walks. He loves his work, he never tires, And never puffs, pants or perspires. Yet though I praise his boundless vim I am not really fond of him. __________ 166 Mud by Polly Chase Boyden Mud is very nice to feel All squishy-squash between the toes! I'd rather wade in wiggly mud Than smell a yellow rose. Nobody else but the rosebush knows How nice mud feels Between the toes. __________ 167 The Tale of Custard the Dragon by Ogden Nash 1902 - 1971 Belinda lived in a little white house, With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse, And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon, And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon. Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink, And the little gray mouse, she called hum Blink, And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard, But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard. Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth, And spikes on top of him and scales underneath, Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose, And realio, trulio daggers on his toes. Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears, And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs, Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage, But Custard cried for a nice safe cage. Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful, Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival, They all sat laughing in the little red wagon At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon. Belinda giggled till she shook the house, and Blink said Weeck! which is giggling for a mouse, Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age, When Custard cried for a nice safe cage. Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound, And Mustard growled, and they all looked around. Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda, For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda. Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right, And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright, His beard was black, one leg was wood; It was clear that the pirate meant no good. Belinda paled, and she cried Help! Help! But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp, Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household, And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed. But up jumped Custard snorting like an engine, Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon, With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm, He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm. The pirate gaped at Belinda's dragon, And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon, He fired two bullets, but they didn't hit, And Custard gobbled him, every bit. Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him, No one mourned for his pirate victim. Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate Around the dragon that ate the pirate. But presently up spoke little dog Mustard, I'd been twice as brave if I hadn't been flustered. And up spoke Ink and up spoke Blink, We'd have been three times as brave, we think, And Custard said, I quite agree That everybody is braver than me. Belinda still lives in her little white house, With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse, And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon, And her realio, trulio little pet dragon. Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears, And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs, Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage, But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage. More Ogden Nash at The Tale of Custard the Dragon http://www.westegg.com/nash/ __________ 168 I'd Love To Be A Fairy's Child by Robert Graves 1895-1985 Children born of fairy stock Never need for shirt or frock, Never want for food or fire, Always get their hearts desire: Jingle pockets full of gold, Marry when they're seven years old. Every fairy child may keep Two strong ponies and ten sheep; All have houses, each his own, Built of brick or granite stone; They live on cherries, they run wild I'd love to be a Fairy's child. __________ 169 Hard from the southeast blows the wind by Elizabeth Coatsworth 1893- 1986 Hard from the southeast blows the wind Promising rain. The clouds are gathering, and dry leaves Tap at the pane Early the cows come wandering home To shadowy bars, Early the candles are alight And a few stars. Now is the hour that lies between Bright day and night, When in the dusk the fire blooms In tongs of light, And the cat comes to bask herself In the soft heat, And Madame Peace draws up her chair To warm her feet. __________ 170 The plant cut down to the root by Elizabeth Coatsworth 1893- 1986 The plant cut down to the root Does not hate. It uses all its strength to grow once more. Turn, boy, to the unknown field Beyond the gate. Never look back agin To the bolted door. __________ 171 Swift things are beautiful by Elizabeth Coatsworth 1893- 1986 Swift things are beautiful: Swallows and deer, And lightning that falls Bright-veined and clear, Rivers and meteors, Wind in the wheat, The strong-withered horse, Th runner's sure feet. And slow things are beautiful: The closing of day, The pause of the wave That curves downward to spray, The ember that crumbles, The opening flower, And the ox that moves on In the quiet of power. __________ 172 B How grey the rain by Elizabeth Coatsworth 1893- 1986 How grey the rain And grey the world And grey the rain clouds overhead, When suddenly Some cloud is furled And there is gleaming sun instead! The raindrops drip Prismatic light, And trees and meadows burn in green, And arched in air Serene and bright The rainbow all at once is seen. Serene and bright The rainbow stands That was not anywhere before, And so may joy Fill empty hands When someone enters through a door. __________ 173 The warm of heart shall never lack a fire by Elizabeth Coatsworth 1893- 1986 The warm of heart shall never lack a fire However far he roam. Although he live forever among strangers He cannot lack a home. For strangers are not strangers to his spirit, And each house seems his own, And by the fire of his loving kindness He cannot sit alone. __________ 174 John Henry anonymous When John Henry was a little baby boy, sitting on the his papa's knee Well he picked up a hammer and little piece of steel Said Hammer's gonna be the death of me, lord, lord Hammer's gonna be the death of mine The captain said to John Henry I'm gonna bring that steam drill around I'm gonna bring that sterm drill out on the job I'm gonna whup that steel on down John Henry told his captain Lord a man ain't nothing but a man But before I'd let your steam drill beat me down I'd die with a hammer in my hand John Henry said to his shaker Shaker why don't you sing Because I'm swinging thirty pounds from my hips on down Just listen to that cold steel ring Now the captain said to John Henry I believe that mountain's caving in John Henry said right back to the captain Ain't nothing but my hammer sucking wind Now the man that invented the steam drill He thought he was mighty fine But John Henry srove fifteen feet The steam drill only made nine John Henry hammered in the mountains His hammer was striking fire But he worked so hard, it broke his poor heart And he laid down his hammerand he died Now John Henry had a little woman Her name was Polly Anne John Henry took sick and had to go to bed Polly Anne drove steel like a man John Henry had a little baby You could hold him in the palm of your hand And the last words I heard that poor boy say My daddy was a steel driving man So every Monday morning When the blue birds begin to sing You can hear John Henry a mile or more You can hear John Henry's hammer ring __________ 175 Casey Jones anonymous (around 1900) Come all you rounders for I want you to hear The story of a brave engineer Casey Jones was the rounder's name On an eight six-wheeler, boys, he won his fame Now the caller called Casey 'bout half-past four He kissed his wife at the station door He mounted to the cabin with his orders in his hand Said; "I'm gonna take my trip to the promised land" Casey Jones mounted to the cabin Casey Jones with his orders in his hand Casey Jones mounted to the cabin Said; "I'm gonna take my trip to the promised land" Pour on the water boys, shovel on the coal Stick your head out the window, see the drivers roll Gonna run her 'til she leaves the rail Cause I'm nine hours late with the western mail Now Casey passed out of South Memphis on the fly Heard the fireman say "Boy, you got a white-eye" The switchman knew by the engine's moan That the man at the throttle was Casey Jones Now Casey got to that certain place Old number nine stared him straight in the face He said to fireman "Boy, you better jump Cause there's two locomotives and they're bound to bump" Well, Mrs. Casey Jones, she sat there on the bed She got the telegram that her poor husband was dead She said; "Go to bed children, and hush your crying Cause you got another papa on the Salt Lake line" __________ 176 Every Time I Climb A Tree by David McCord 1897-1997 Every Time I Climb a Tree Every time I climb a tree Every time I climb a tree Every time I climb a tree I scrape a leg Or skin a knee And every time I climb a tree I find some ants Or dodge a bee And get the ants All over me. And every time I climb a tree Where have you been? They say to me But don't they know that I am free Every time I climb a tree? I like it best To spot a nest That has an egg Or maybe three. And then I skin The other leg But every time I climb a tree I see a lot of things to see Swallows rooftops and TV And all the fields and farms there be Every time I climb a tree Though climbing may be good for ants It isn't awfully good for pants But still it's pretty good for me Every time I climb a tree The End