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Poems for 2nd Graders

Table of Contents

A Mother's Days: Fairy Tales
A Mother's Days: Fairy Tales
by Jessie Willcox Smith
  1. This Is God's Day by Annette Wynne
  2. The Violet by Jane Taylor
  3. Beautiful Faces by Anonymous
  4. The Boy Who Never Told a Lie by Anonymous
  5. All Things Beautiful by Mrs. C. F. Alexander
  6. Trees by Joyce Kilmer
  7. Loss and Gain by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
  8. How doth the little busy bee by Isaac Watts
  9. Dandelion by Nellie M. Garabrant
  10. To Little Wave by Ruby Archer
  11. The Baby by Hugh Miller
  12. The Lamb by William Blake
  13. Saying and Doing by Amos Russel Wells
  14. The Clouds by Anonymous
  15. The Voice of the Grass by Sarah Roberts
  16. The New Year by Anonymous
  17. Gently Falling by Emma Louise Clapp
  18. The Tree by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
  19. The Sailor by Brown
  20. Clouds by Frank Dempster Sherman
  21. Leaves at Play by Frank Dempster Sherman
  22. Swinging on a Birch Tree by Lucy Larcom
  23. Calling the Violet by Lucy Larcom
  24. Obedience by Phoebe Cary
  25. Morning by Anonymous
  26. Now the Day is Over by Sabine Baring-Gould
  27. The Cornfield by Elizabeth Madox Roberts

2nd Grade (7)

  1. This Is God's Day

    by Annette Wynne

    This is God's day that he lent to me
    That I may use for good or ill;
    Fair and fresh as a day can be
    This is God's day that he lent to me.
    He took a wave from eternity's sea—
    Fashioned a day all blemish-free;
    This is God's day that he lent to me.
    That I may use for good or ill.

  2. The Violet

    by Jane Taylor

     Full Text

    Down in a green and shady bed
    A modest violet grew;
    Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
    As if to hide from view.

    And yet it was a lovely flower,
    No colours bright and fair;
    It might have graced a rosy bower,
    Instead of hiding there.

    Yet there it was content to bloom,
    In modest tints arrayed;
    And there diffused its sweet perfume,
    Within the silent shade.

    Then let me to the valley go,
    This pretty flower to see;
    That I may also learn to grow
    In sweet humility.

  3. "Beautiful Faces"

    by Anonymous

    Beautiful faces are they that wear
    The light of a pleasant spirit there;
    Beautiful hands are they that do
    Deeds that are noble good and true;
    Beautiful feet are they that go
    Swiftly to lighten another's woe.

  4. The Boy Who Never Told a Lie

    by Anonymous

     Full Text

    Once there was a little boy,
    With curly hair and pleasant eye—
    A boy who always told the truth,
    And never, never told a lie.

    And when he trotted off to school,
    The children all about would cry,
    "There goes the curly-headed boy—
    The boy that never tells a lie."

    And everybody loved him so,
    Because he always told the truth,
    That every day, as he grew up,
    'Twas said, "There goes the honest youth."

    And when the people that stood near
    Would turn to ask the reason why,
    The answer would be always this:
    "Because he never tells a lie."

  5. All Things Bright and Beautiful

    by Cecil Frances Alexander

    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 colors,
    He made their tiny wings.

    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 hath made all things well.

  6. Trees

    by Joyce Kilmer

    I think that I shall never see
    A poem lovely as a tree.

    A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
    Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

    A tree that looks at God all day,
    And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

    A tree that may in Summer wear
    A nest of robins in her hair;

    Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
    Who intimately lives with rain.

    Poems are made by fools like me,
    But only God can make a tree.

  7. Loss and Gain

    by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

    When I compare
    What I have lost with what I have gained,
    What I have missed with what attained,
    Little room do I find for pride.

    I am aware
    How many days have been idly spent;
    How like an arrow the good intent
    Has fallen short or been turned aside.

    But who shall dare
    To measure loss and gain in this wise?
    Defeat may be victory in disguise;
    The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.

  8. How doth the little busy bee

    by Isaac Watts

    How doth the little busy bee
    Improve each shining hour,
    And gather honey all the day
    From every opening flower!

    How skilfully she builds her cell!
    How neat she spreads the wax!
    And labors hard to storeit well
    With the sweet food she makes.

    In works of labor 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.

  9. Dandelion

    by Nellie M. Garabrant

    There's a dandy little fellow,
    Who dresses all in yellow,
    In yellow with an overcoat of green;
    With his hair all crisp and curly,
    In the springtime bright and early
    A-tripping o'er the meadow he is seen.
    Through all the bright June weather,
    Like a jolly little tramp,
    He wanders o'er the hillside, down the road;
    Around his yellow feather,
    Thy gypsy fireflies camp;
    His companions are the wood lark and the toad.

    But at last this little fellow
    Doffs his dainty coat of yellow,
    And very feebly totters o'er the green;
    For he very old is growing
    And with hair all white and flowing,
    A-nodding in the sunlight he is seen.
    Oh, poor dandy, once so spandy,
    Golden dancer on the lea!
    Older growing, white hair flowing,
    Poor little baldhead dandy now is he!

  10. To Little Wave

    by Ruby Archer

    O little wave, you come from far,
    Over the sky-line yonder.
    Why do you hurry across the bar
    And fight with the wind, I wonder?

    Can you be weary of ocean play?
    Did the big monsters follow?
    Were you afraid that a whale to-day
    Your little self would swallow?

    There, little wave, come close to land.
    Careful! I knew you'd stumble.
    There goes your curly head on the sand—
    Never you mind—don't grumble.

    Here are some playthings I've brought for you,—
    Buttercups, daisies, clover.
    Now you will stay? Lo—off to the blue!
    Gone is my little rover.

  11. The Baby

    by Hugh Miller

    No shoes to hide her tiny toes,
    No stockings on her feet;
    Her little ankles white as snow,
    Or early blossoms sweet.

    Her simple dress of sprinkled pink;
    Her tiny, dimpled chin;
    Her rosebud lips and bonny mouth
    With not one tooth between.

    Her eyes so like her mother's own,
    Two gentle, liquid things;
    Her face is like an angel's face—
    We're glad she has no wings.

  12. The Lamb

    by William Blake

    Little Lamb, who made thee?
    Dost thou know who made thee,
    Gave thee life, and bade thee feed
    By the stream and o'er the mead;
    Gave thee clothing of delight
    Softest clothing, woolly, 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;
    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.

  13. Saying and Doing

    It isn't the talk that will count, boys,
    But the doing that springs from the talk.
    To what will your walking amount, boys.
    With no goal at the end of your walk?

    – Amos R. Wells
    Saying and Doing
    by Amos R. Wells

    It isn't the talk that will count, boys,
    But the doing that springs from the talk.
    To what will your walking amount, boys.
    With no goal at the end of your walk?

    What's the use of a ladder set up, boys,
    With the end resting only on air?
    What's the use of a nobly filled cup boys,
    If no one to drink it is there?

    What's the use of a capital plan, boys,
    That never is more than a scheme?
    He makes a poor, scatter brained man boys,
    That begins in his boyhood to dream.

    No; talk on and plan as you will, boys,
    But remember, if you would succeed.
    It isn't the talk that shows skill, boys,
    But the end of the talking,—the deed!

  14. The Clouds

    by Anonymous

    "Clouds that wander through the sky,
    Sometimes low and sometimes high;
    In the darkness of the night,
    In the sunshine warm and bright.
    Ah! I wonder much if you
    Have any useful work to do."

    "Yes, we're busy night and day,
    As o'er the earth we take our way.
    We are bearers of the rain
    To the grasses, and flowers, and grain;
    We guard you from the sun's bright rays,
    In the sultry summer days."

  15. The Voice of the Grass

    by Sarah Roberts Boyle

    Here I come, creeping, creeping, everywhere;
    By the dusty roadside,
    On the sunny hillside,
    Close by the noisy brook,
    In every shady nook,
    I come creeping, creeping, everywhere.

    Here I come, creeping, creeping everywhere;
    All round the open door,
    Where sit the aged poor,
    Here where the children play,
    In the bright and merry May,
    I come creeping, creeping, everywhere.

    Here I come, creeping, creeping, everywhere;
    You can not see me coming,
    Nor hear my low, sweet humming,
    For in the starry night,
    And the glad morning light,
    I come, quietly creeping, everywhere.

    Here I come, creeping, creeping, everywhere;
    More welcome than the flowers,
    In summer's pleasant hours;
    The gentle cow is glad,
    And the merry birds not sad,
    To see me creeping, creeping, everywhere.

    Here I come, creeping, creeping, everywhere;
    When you're numbered with the dead,
    In your still and narrow bed,
    In the happy spring I'll come,
    And deck your narrow home,
    Creeping, silently creeping, everywhere.

    Here I come, creeping, creeping, everywhere;
    My humble song of praise,
    Most gratefully I raise,
    To Him at whose command
    I beautify the land,
    Creeping, silently creeping, everywhere.

  16. The New Year

    by Anonymous

    May the year that is dawning
    So fresh and so pure,
    Be full of the pleasures
    That always endure.

    The sunshine of love,
    The joy of kind deeds,
    The brightness of smiles
    That the sad world so needs.

    The kindly word uttered,
    The angry unspoken:
    The merry heart's laughter,
    To heal the hearts broken.

    And when the New Year
    Has grown old and gray,
    May you give it back spotless
    And pure as today.

  17. Gently Falling

    by Emma Louise Clapp

    Softly from the sky is falling
    Snowflakes white as lilies fair;
    Gently to each other calling
    As they float down through the air.

    Softly, softly, oh so softly!
    Do they come from dizzy heights;
    Gently, gently, oh, so gently!
    Do they lay a blanket white.

    Over all the many housetops,
    Over shrubs and tall, tall trees,
    Over hills and field and meadows,
    Hiding stones and restless leaves.

  18. The Tree

    by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

    The Tree's early leaf-buds were bursting their brown;
    "Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down.
    "No, leave them alone
    Till the blossoms have grown,"
    Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown.

    The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung;
    "Shall I take them away?" said the Wind, as he swung.
    "No, leave them alone
    Till the berries have grown,"
    Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung.

    The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow;
    Said the girl, "May I gather thy berries now?"
    "Yes, all thou canst see;
    Take them; all are for thee,"
    Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low.

  19. The Sailor

    by Abbie Farwell Brown

    Little girl, O little girl,
    Where did you sail to-day?
    The greeny grass is all about;
    I cannot see the bay.

    "The greeny grass is water, sir;
    I'm sailing on the sea,
    I'm tacking to the Island there
    Beneath the apple tree.

    "You ought to come aboard my boat,
    Or you will soon be drowned!
    You're standing in the ocean, sir,
    That billows all around!"

    Little girl, O little girl,
    And must I pay a fare?
    "A penny to the apple tree,
    A penny back from there.

    "A penny for a passenger,
    But sailors voyage free;
    O, will you be a sailor, sir,
    And hold the sheet for me?"

  20. Clouds

    by Frank Dempster Sherman

    The sky is full of clouds to-day,
    And idly, to and fro,
    Like sheep across the pasture, they
    Across the heavens go.
    I hear the wind with merry noise
    Around the housetops sweep,
    And dream it is the shepherd boys,—
    They're driving home their sheep.

    The clouds move faster now; and see!
    The west is red and gold.
    Each sheep seems hastening to be
    The first within the fold.
    I watch them hurry on until
    The blue is clear and deep,
    And dream that far beyond the hill
    The shepherds fold their sheep.

    Then in the sky the trembling stars
    Like little flowers shine out,
    While Night puts up the shadow bars,
    And darkness falls about.

  21. Leaves at Play

    by Frank Dempster Sherman

    Scamper, little leaves, about
    In the autumn sun;
    I can hear the old Wind shout,
    Laughing as you run,
    And I haven't any doubt
    That he likes the fun.

    When you've run a month or so,
    Very tired you'll get;
    But the same old Wind, I know,
    Will be laughing yet
    When he tucks you in your snow
    Downy coverlet

    So, run on and have your play,
    Romp with all your might;
    Dance across the autumn day,
    While the sun is bright.
    Soon you'll hear the old Wind say,
    "Little leaves, Good-night!"

  22. Swinging on a Birch Tree

    by Lucy Larcom

    Swinging on a birch-tree
    To a sleepy tune,
    Hummed by all the breezes
    In the month of June!
    Little leaves a-flutter
    Sound like dancing drops
    Of a Brook on pebbles,—
    Song that never stops.

    Up and down we seesaw:
    Up into the sky;
    How it opens on us,
    Like a wide blue eye!
    You and I are sailors
    Rocking on a mast;
    And the world's our vessel:
    Ho! she sails so fast!

  23. Calling the Violet

    by Lucy Larcom

    Dear Little Violet,
    Don't be afraid!
    Lift your blue eyes
    From the rock's mossy shade!
    All the birds call for you
    Out of the sky;
    May is here, waiting,
    And here, too, am I.

    Come, pretty Violet,
    Winter's away:
    Come, for without you
    May isn't May.
    Down through the sunshine
    Wings flutter and fly;—
    Quick, little Violet,
    Open your eye!

    Hear the rain whisper,
    "Dear Violet, come!"
    How can you stay
    In your underground home?
    Up in the pine-boughs
    For you the winds sigh.
    Homesick to see you,
    Are we—May and I.

  24. Obedience

    by Phoebe Cary

    If you're told to do a thing,
    And mean to do it really;
    Never let it be by halves;
    Do it fully, freely!

    Do not make a poor excuse,
    Waiting, weak, unsteady;
    All obedience worth the name,
    Must be prompt and ready.

  25. Morning

    by Anonymous

    Darkness is banished and morning is here;
    Gilding the heavens the sunbeams appear.

    Songs of thanksgiving arise in the air;
    Blossoms their beauty and perfume prepare

    Dewdrops like diamonds flash on the grass
    Bees in the meadows all hum as they pass.

    Nature awaketh to gladden our heart,
    For in her joyfulness all take a part.

  26. Now the Day is Over

    by Sabine Baring-Gould

    Now the day is over,
    Night is drawing nigh,
    Shadows of the evening
    Steal across the sky.

    Now the darkness gathers,
    Stars begin to peep;
    Birds, and beasts, and flowers
    Soon will be asleep.

    Jesus, give the weary
    Calm and sweet repose;
    With thy tenderest blessing
    May our eyelids close.

    Grant to little children,
    Visions bright of Thee;
    Guard the sailors, tossing
    On the deep blue sea.

    Comfort every suff’rer
    Watching late in pain.
    Those who plan some evil
    From their sin restrain.

    Through the long night-watches,
    May thine angels spread
    Their white wings above me,
    Watching round my bed.

    When the morning wakens,
    Then may I arise
    Pure, and fresh, and sinless
    In Thy holy eyes.

  27. The Cornfield

    by Elizabeth Madox Roberts

    I went across the pasture lot
    When not a one was watching me.
    Away beyond the cattle barns
    I climbed a little crooked tree.

    And I could look down on the field
    And see the corn and how it grows.
    Across the world and up and down
    In very straight and even rows.

    And far away and far away-
    I wonder if the farmer man
    Knows all about the corn and how
    It comes together like a fan.

  28. The Hayloft

    by Robert Louis Stevenson

    Through all the pleasant meadow-side
    The grass grew shoulder-high,
    Till the shining scythes went far and wide
    And cut it down to dry.

    Those green and sweetly smelling crops
    They led in waggons home;
    And they piled them here in mountain tops
    For mountaineers to roam.

    Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail,
    Mount Eagle and Mount High;—
    The mice that in these mountains dwell,
    No happier are than I!

    Oh, what a joy to clamber there,
    Oh, what a place for play,
    With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,
    The happy hills of hay!

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