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Poems for Children

Table of Contents

  1. Indian Children by Annette Wynne
  2. Oh Lovely Lily by Amy Carmichael
  3. "How Doth the Little Busy Bee" by Isaac Watts
  4. Boats Sail on the Rivers by Christina Rossetti
  5. The Butterfly by Adelaide O'Keefe
  6. The Time to Get Ready by Amos Russel Wells
  7. Mighty Things by Annette Wynne
  8. Morning by Jane Taylor
  9. Good-Morning, Sun by Annette Wynne
  10. A Good Sleep by Anonymous
  11. One and One by Mary Mapes Dodge
  12. A Mortifying Mistake by Anna Maria Pratt
  13. "God made the little birds to sing" by Anonymous
  14. "The Stars at Set of Sun" by Anonymous
  15. "Beautiful Faces" by Anonymous
  16. If I Were A Sunbeam by Alice Cary
  17. The Song of the Bee by Marian Douglas
  18. Pretty is That Pretty Does by Alice Cary
  19. Alice's Server by Anonymous
  20. Cheerfulness by Marian Douglas
  21. Lend a Hand by Anonymous
  22. O Little Road by Annette Wynne
  23. The White Kitten by Anonymous
  24. The Little Bird's Song by Anonymous
  25. A Bird May Sit and Sing by Annette Wynne
  26. A Moment Too Late by Anonymous
  27. The Snowbird's Song by F. C. Woodworth
  28. A Child's Hymn by F. C. Woodworth
  29. Lazy Ned by Anonymous
  30. The Wonderful World by William Brighty Rands
  31. The Bluebell by Anonymous
  32. Little Rain Drops by Aunt Effie
  33. My Lady Wind by Anonymous
  34. Duty by Ralph Waldo Emerson
  35. O eyes that open by Anonymous
  36. Nineteen Birds by Anonymous
  37. Nest Eggs by Robert Louis Stevenson
  38. Singing by Robert Louis Stevenson
  39. Winter-Time by Robert Louis Stevenson
  40. The Little New Year's Come to Stay by Annette Wynne
  41. The Woodpecker by Elizabeth Madox Roberts
  42. This Is God's Day by Annette Wynne
  43. I Marred a Day by Annette Wynne
  44. The Elephant by Annette Wynne
  45. Days by Annette Wynne
  46. Letters Are Small Angels by Annette Wynne
  47. My Book Holds Many Stories by Annette Wynne
  48. Each Dawn by Annette Wynne
  49. For a Child's Book by Annette Wynne
  50. The Little Plant on the Window Speaks by Annette Wynne
  51. God's House Has a Ceiling by Annette Wynne
  52. The Little New Pupil by Annette Wynne
  53. The Sunshine Has a Pleasant Way by Annette Wynne
  54. A Thought by Robert Louis Stevenson
  55. Little Folks in the Grass by Annette Wynne
  56. The Grassy-Meadow-School by Annette Wynne
  57. Before It's Time to Go to Bed by Annette Wynne
  58. Morning by Annette Wynne
  59. The Mother Moon by Louisa May Alcott

  1. Indian Children

    by Annette Wynne

    Where we walk to school each day
    Indian children used to play—
    All about our native land,
    Where the shops and houses stand.

    And the trees were very tall,
    And there were no streets at all,
    Not a church, not a steeple—
    Only woods and Indian people.

    Only wigwams on the ground,
    And at night bears prowling round—
    What a different place to-day
    Where we live and work and play!

  2. Oh Lovely Lily

    by Amy Carmichael

    Oh, lovely lily,
    Growing in our garden,
    Who made a dress so fair
    For you to wear?
    Who made you straight and tall
    To give pleasure to us all?
    Oh, lovely lily,
    Who did it all?

    Oh, little children,
    Playing in our garden,
    God made this dress so fair
    For us to wear.
    God made us straight and tall
    To give pleasure to you all.
    Oh, little children,
    God did it all.

  3. "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.

  4. The Rainbow

    by Christina Rossetti

    Boats sail on the rivers,
    And ships sail on the seas;
    But clouds that sail across the sky
    Are prettier far than these.

    There are bridges on the rivers,
    As pretty as you please;
    But the bow that bridges heaven,
    And overtops the trees,
    And builds a road from earth to sky,
    Is prettier far than these.

  5. The Butterfly

    by Adelaide O'Keefe

    The butterfly, an idle thing,
    Nor honey makes, nor yet can sing,
    As do the bee and bird;
    Nor does it, like the prudent ant,
    Lay up the grain for times of want,
    A wise and cautious hoard.

    My youth is but a summer's day:
    Then like the bee and ant I'll lay
    A store of learning by;
    And though from flower to flower I rove,
    My stock of wisdom I'll improve,
    Nor be a butterfly.

  6. The Time to Get Ready

    by Amos Russel Wells

    "Jockey, little horse-jockey, riding to the race,
    Jaunty is your bearing, confident your face,
    Beautiful your goodly steed so powerful and fleet—
    But what, my little jockey is the matter with his feet?"

    "The shoes are loose, kind stranger. "Their click it is you hear.
    But I myself will fasten them securely, never fear,
    Since I have brought my tools along, to tighten every shoe;
    For while the horse is racing, I'll have nothing else to do!"

    "Jaunty little horse-jockey, with your silly plan,
    You are not more foolish than many a foolish man—
    Up into the saddle, off for the race of life.
    Expecting to get ready in the middle of the strife."

  7. Mighty Things

    by Annette Wynne

    Iron, steel, and granite rock are mighty things, I deem,
    But the strongest thing in all the world is just a dream;
    Dreams built a house, and built a bridge, a ship to go afar,
    And God's dream made the earth and us and every rolling star.

  8. Morning

    by Jane Taylor

    The lark is up to meet the sun,
    The bee is on the wing,
    The ant her labor has begun,
    The woods with music ring.

    Shall birds and bees and ants be wise,
    While I my moments waste?
    Oh, let me with the morning rise,
    And to my duties haste.

    Why should I sleep till beams of morn
    Their light and glory shed?
    Immortal beings were not born
    To waste their time in bed.

  9. Good-Morning, Sun

    by Annette Wynne

    Good-morning, Sun,
    Work's begun
    For every one;
    While you stay
    And make our day
    Let me be as true
    And good as you.

    When you go
    Out to the West
    I shall be glad for rest
    And glad for the day
    That went away.

    Good-morning, Sun,
    Work's begun,
    And play—
    Thank you for the day!

  10. A Good Sleep

    by Anonymous

    You do not need a bed of down
    To give you sleep at night.
    A counterpane of pink and brown
    And pillow soft and white

    You do not need a pretty room
    All dressed in dainty blue.
    Where soundest slumber-health may come,
    With pleasant dreams, to you.

    But fill the day with labor, Ned.
    And work with all your might,
    For that will fill the hardest bed
    With softest down, at night.

    And if you want a counterpane
    With many colors gay.
    Not only work with might and main,
    But—add a bit of play!

  11. One and One

    by Mary Mapes Dodge

    Two little girls are better than one,
    Two little boys can double the fun,
    Two little birds can build a fine nest,
    Two little arms can love mother best.
    Two little ponies must go to a span;
    Two little pockets has my little man;
    Two little eyes to open and close,
    Two little ears and one little nose,
    Two little elbows, dimpled and sweet,
    Two little shoes on two little feet,
    Two little lips and one little chin,
    Two little cheeks with a rose shut in;
    Two little shoulders, chubby and strong,
    Two little legs running all day long.
    Two little prayers does my darling say,
    Twice does he kneel by my side each day,
    Two little folded hands, soft and brown,
    Two little eyelids cast meekly down,
    And two little angels guard him in bed,
    "One at the foot, and one at the head."

  12. A Mortifying Mistake

    by Anna Maria Pratt

    I studied my tables over and over, and backward and forward, too;
    But I couldn't remember six times nine, and I didn't know what to do,
    Till sister told me to play with my doll, and not to bother my head.
    "If you call her 'Fifty-four' for a while, you'll learn it by heart," she said.

    So I took my favorite, Mary Ann (though I thought 'twas a dreadful shame
    To give such a perfectly lovely child such a perfectly horrid name),
    And I called her my dear little "Fifty-four" a hundred times, till I knew
    The answer of six times nine as well as the answer of two times two.

    Next day Elizabeth Wigglesworth, who always acts so proud,
    Said, "Six times nine is fifty-two," and I nearly laughed aloud!
    But I wished I hadn't when teacher said, "Now, Dorothy, tell if you can."
    For I thought of my doll and—sakes alive!—I answered, "Mary Ann!"

  13. "The Stars at Set of Sun"

    by Anonymous

    When the stars at set of sun
    Watch you from on high
    When the morning has begun
    Think the Lord is nigh.

    All you do and all you say,
    He can see and hear:
    When you work and when you play,
    Think the Lord is near.

    All your joys and griefs He knows
    Counts each falling tear.
    When to Him you tell your woes,
    Know the Lord is near.

  14. "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.

  15. If I Were A Sunbeam

    by Alice Cary

    "If I were a sunbeam,
    I know what I'd do;
    I would seek white lilies,
    Roaming woodlands through.
    I would steal among them,
    Softest light I'd shed,
    Until every lily
    Raised its drooping head.

    "If I were a sunbeam,
    I know where I'd go;
    Into lowly hovels,
    Dark with want and woe:
    Till sad hearts looked upward,
    I would shine and shine;
    Then they'd think of heaven,
    Their sweet home and mine."

    Are you not a sunbeam,
    Child, whose life is glad
    With an inner brightness
    Sunshine never had?
    Oh, as God has blessed you,
    Scatter light divine!
    For there is no sunbeam
    But must die or shine.

  16. The Song of the Bee

    by Marian Douglas

    Buzz! buzz! buzz!
    This is the song of the bee.
    His legs are of yellow;
    A jolly, good fellow,
    And yet a great worker is he.

    In days that are sunny
    He's getting his honey;
    In days that are cloudy
    He's making his wax:
    On pinks and on lilies,
    And gay daffodillies,
    And columbine blossoms,
    He levies a tax!

    Buzz! buzz! buzz!
    The sweet-smelling clover,
    He, humming, hangs over;
    The scent of the roses
    Makes fragrant his wings:
    He never gets lazy;
    From thistle and daisy,
    And weeds of the meadow,
    Some treasure he brings.

    Buzz! buzz! buzz!
    From morning's first light
    Till the coming of night,
    He's singing and toiling
    The summer day through.
    Oh! we may get weary,
    And think work is dreary;
    'Tis harder by far
    To have nothing to do.

  17. Pretty is That Pretty Does

    by Alice Cary

    The spider wears a plain brown dress,
    And she is a steady spinner;
    To see her, quiet as a mouse,
    Going about her silver house,
    You would never, never, never guess
    The way she gets her dinner.

    She looks as if no thought of ill
    In all her life had stirred her;
    But while she moves with careful tread, And
    while she spins her silken thread,
    She is planning, planning, planning still
    The way to do some murder.

    My child, who reads this simple lay,
    With eyes down-dropt and tender, Remember
    the old proverb says
    That pretty is which pretty does,
    And that worth does not go nor stay
    For poverty nor splendor.

    'Tis not the house, and not the dress,
    That makes the saint or sinner.
    To see the spider sit and spin,
    Shut with her walls of silver in,
    You would never, never, never guess
    The way she gets her dinner.

  18. Alice's Server

    by Anonymous

    Far down in the valley the wheat grows deep,
    And the reapers are making the cradles sweep;
    And this is the song that I hear them sing,
    While cheery and loud their voices ring:
    "'Tis the finest wheat that ever did grow!
    And it is for Alice's supper—ho! ho!"

    Far down by the river the old mill stands,
    And the miller is rubbing his dusty hands;
    And these are the words of the miller's lay,
    As he watches the millstones grinding away:
    "'Tis the finest flour that money can buy,
    And it is for Alice's supper—hi! hi!"

    Downstairs in the kitchen the fire doth glow,
    And cook is a-kneading the soft, white dough;
    And this is the song she is singing to-day,
    As merry and busy she's working away:
    "'Tis the finest dough, whether near or afar,
    And it is for Alice's supper—ha! ha!"

    To the nursery now comes mother, at last,
    And what in her hand is she bringing so fast?
    'Tis a plateful of something, all yellow and white,
    And she sings as she comes, with her smile so bright:
    "'Tis the best bread and butter I ever did see,
    And it is for Alice's supper—he! he!"

  19. Cheerfulness

    by Marian Douglas

    There is a little maiden—
    Who is she? Do you know?
    Who always has a welcome,
    Wherever she may go.

    Her face is like the May time,
    Her voice is like the bird's;
    The sweetest of all music
    Is in her lightsome words.

    Each spot she makes the brighter,
    As if she were the sun;
    And she is sought and cherished
    And loved by everyone;

    By old folks and by children,
    By loft and by low;
    Who is this little maiden?
    Does anybody know?

    You surely must have met her.
    You certainly can guess;
    What! I must introduce her?
    Her name is Cheeerfulness.

  20. Lend a Hand

    by Anonymous

    Lend a hand to one another
    In the daily toil of life;
    When we meet a weaker brother,
    Let us help him in the strife.
    There is none so rich but may,
    In his turn, be forced to borrow;
    And the poor man's lot to-day
    May become our own to-morrow.

    Lend a hand to one another:
    When malicious tongues have thrown
    Dark suspicion on your brother,
    Be not prompt to cast a stone.
    There is none so good but may
    Run adrift in shame and sorrow.

    Lend a hand to one another:
    In the race for Honor's crown;
    Should it fall upon your brother,
    Let not envy tear it down.
    Lend a hand to all, we pray,
    In their sunshine or their sorrow;
    And the prize they've won today
    May become our own to-morrow.

  21. O Little Road

    by Annette Wynne

    O little road, where do you go?
    I saw you start a while below,
    And then you climbed the woody hill;
    It almost seemed you'd reach the sky, While down below so patient, I Am standing, waiting for you still.

    Will you sometime turn round and then
    Hurry back to home again?
    Or will you always want to stray
    To richer lands far, far away—
    And never once look back to see
    This little house and waiting me?

  22. The White Kitten

    by Anonymous

    My little white kitten's asleep on my knee;
    As white as the snow or the lilies is she;
    She wakes up with a pur
    When I stroke her soft fur:
    Was there ever another white kitten like her?

    My little white kitten now wants to go out
    And frolic, with no one to watch her about;
    "Little kitten," I say,
    "Just an hour you may stay,
    And be careful in choosing your places to play."

    But night has come down, when I hear a loud "mew;"
    I open the door, and my kitten comes through;
    My white kitten! ah me!
    Can it really be she—
    This ill-looking, beggar-like cat that I see?

    What ugly, gray streaks on her side and her back!
    Her nose, once as pink as a rosebud, is black!
    Oh, I very well know,
    Though she does not say so,
    She has been where white kittens ought never to go.

    If little good children intend to do right,
    If little white kittens would keep themselves white,
    It is needful that they
    Should this counsel obey,
    And be careful in choosing their places to play.

  23. The Little Bird's Song

    by Anonymous

    A little bird, with feathers brown,
    Sat singing on a tree;
    The song was very soft and low,
    But sweet as it could be.

    The people who were passing by,
    Looked up to see the bird
    That made the sweetest melody
    That ever they had heard.

    But all the bright eyes looked in vain;
    Birdie was very small,
    And with his modest, dark-brown coat,
    He made no show at all.

    "Why, father," little Gracie said
    "Where can the birdie be?
    If I could sing a song like that,
    I'd sit where folks could see."

    "I hope my little girl will learn
    A lesson from the bird,
    And try to do what good she can,
    Not to be seen or heard.

    "This birdie is content to sit
    Unnoticed on the way,
    And sweetly sing his Maker's praise
    From dawn to close of day.

    "So live, my child, all through your life,
    That, be it short or long,
    Though others may forget your looks,
    They'll not forget your song."

  24. A Bird May Sit and Sing

    by Annette Wynne

    A bird may sit and sing
    And do his part that way,
    But a child must do some other thing
    As well as play.

  25. A Moment Too Late

    by Anonymous

    A moment too late, my beautiful bird,
    A moment too late are you now;
    The wind has your soft, downy nest disturbed—
    The nest that you hung on the bough.

    A moment too late; that string in your bill,
    Would have fastened it firmly and strong;
    But see, there it goes, rolling over the hill!
    Oh, you staid a moment too long.

    A moment, one moment too late, busy bee;
    The honey has dropped from the flower:
    No use to creep under the petals and see;
    It stood ready to drop for an hour.

    A moment too late; had you sped on your wing,
    The honey would not have been gone;
    Now you see what a very, a very sad thing
    'T is to stay a moment too long.

    Little girl, never be a moment too late,
    It will soon end in trouble or crime;
    Better be an hour early, and stand and wait,
    Than a moment behind the time.

    If the bird and the bee, little boy, were too late,
    Remember, as you play along
    On your way to school, with pencil and slate,
    Never stay a moment too long.

  26. The Snowbird's Song

    by F. C. Woodworth

    The ground was all covered with snow one day,
    And two little sisters were busy at play,
    When a snowbird was sitting close by on a tree,
    And merrily singing his chick-a-de-dee.

    He had not been singing that tune very long
    Ere Emily heard him, so loud was his song;
    "O sister, look out of the window!" said she;
    "Here's a dear little bird singing chick-a-de-dee.

    "Poor fellow! he walks in the snow and the sleet,
    And has neither stockings nor shoes on his feet:
    I wonder what makes him so full of his glee;
    He's all the time singing his chick-a-de-dee.

    "If I were a barefooted snowbird, I know,
    I would not stay out in the cold and the snow;
    I pity him so! oh, how cold he must be!
    And yet he keeps singing his chick-a-de-dee.

    "O mother; do get him some stockings, and shoes,
    And a nice little frock, and a hat if he choose:
    I wish he'd come into the parlor, and see
    How warm we would make him, poor chick-a-de-dee!"

    The bird had flown down for some sweet crumbs of bread,
    And heard every word little Emily said:
    "What a figure I'd make in that dress" thought he,
    And laughed as he warbled his chick-a-de-dee.

    "I am grateful," said he, "for the wish you express,
    But have no occasion for such a fine dress;
    I rather remain with my little limbs free,
    Than to hobble about, singing chick-a-de-dee.

    "There is One, my dear child, though I can not tell who,
    Has clothed me already, and warm enough, too.
    Good morning! Oh, who are so happy as we?"
    And away he flew, singing his chick-a-de-dee.

  27. A Child's Hymn

    by F. C. Woodworth

    God make my life a little light,
    Within the world to glow;
    A little flame that burneth bright
    Wherever I may go.

    God make my life a little flower,
    That giveth joy to all,
    Content to bloom in native bower,
    Although its place be small.

    God make my life a little song,
    That comforteth the sad;
    That helpeth others to be strong,
    And makes the singer glad.

    God make my life a little hymn
    Of tenderness and praise;
    Of faith—that never waxeth dim
    In all His wondrous ways.

  28. Lazy Ned

    by Anonymous

    "'T is royal fun," cried lazy Ned,
    "To coast, upon my fine, new sled,
    And beat the other boys;
    But then, I can not bear to climb
    The tiresome hill, for every time
    It more and more annoys."

    So, while his schoolmates glided by,
    And gladly tugged uphill, to try
    Another merry race,
    Too indolent to share their plays,
    Ned was compelled to stand and gaze,
    While shivering in his place.

    Thus, he would never take the pains
    To seek the prize that labor gains,
    Until the time had passed;
    For, all his life, he dreaded still
    The silly bugbear of uphill,
    And died a dunce at last.

  29. The Wonderful World

    The Wonderful World
    The Wonderful World
    by Katherine Sturges Dodge
    by William Brighty Rands

    Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful World,
    With the wonderful water round you curled,
    And the wonderful grass upon your breast,
    World, you are beautifully dressed.

    The wonderful air is over me,
    And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree—
    It walks on the water, and whirls the mills,
    And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.

    You friendly Earth, how far do you go,
    With the wheat-fields that nod and the rivers that flow,
    With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles,
    And people upon you for thousands of miles?

    Ah! you are so great, and I am so small,
    I tremble to think of you, World, at all;
    And yet, when I said my prayers to-day,
    A whisper inside me seemed to say,
    "You are more than the Earth, though you are such a dot:
    You can love and think, and the Earth cannot!"

  30. The Bluebell

    by Anonymous

    There is a story I have heard—
    A poet learned it of a bird,
    And kept its music every word—

    A story of a dim ravine,
    O'er which the towering tree tops lean,
    With one blue rift of sky between;

    And there, two thousand years ago,
    A little flower as white as snow
    Swayed in the silence to and fro.

    Day after day, with longing eye,
    The floweret watched the narrow sky,
    And fleecy clouds that floated by.

    And through the darkness, night by night,
    One gleaming star would climb the height,
    And cheer the lonely floweret's sight.

    Thus, watching the blue heavens afar,
    And the rising of its favorite star,
    A slow change came—but not to mar;

    For softly o'er its petals white
    There crept a blueness, like the light
    Of skies upon a summer night;

    And in its chalice, I am told,
    The bonny bell was formed to hold
    A tiny star that gleamed like gold.

    Now, little people, sweet and true,
    I find a lesson here for you
    Writ in the floweret's bell of blue:

    The patient child whose watchful eye
    Strives after all things pure and high,
    Shall take their image by and by.

  31. Raindrops

    by Jane Euphemia Saxby

    Oh, where do you come from,
    You little drops of rain,
    Pitter-patter, pitter-patter,
    Down the windowpane?

    They won’t let me walk,
    They won’t let me play,
    And they won’t let me go
    Out of doors at all today.

    They put away my playthings
    Because I broke them all,
    And then they locked up all my bricks,
    And took away my ball.

    Tell me, little raindrops,
    Is that the way you play?
    Pitter-patter, pitter-patter,
    All the rainy day?

    I sit here at the window;
    I've nothing else to do;
    Oh, I wish that I could play,
    This rainy day, with you!

    The little raindrops cannot speak,
    But "pitter-patter-pat"
    Means, "We can play on this side,
    Why can't you play on that?"

  32. My Lady Wind

    by Anonymous

    My Lady Wind, my Lady Wind,
    Went round about the house to find
    A chink to set her foot in;
    She tried the keyhole in the door,
    She tried the crevice in the floor,
    And drove the chimney soot in.

    And then one night when it was dark
    She blew up such a tiny spark
    That all the town was bothered;
    From it she raised such flame and smoke
    That many in great terror woke,
    And many more were smothered.

    And thus when once, my little dears,
    A whisper reaches itching ears—
    The same will come, you'll find:
    Take my advice, restrain the tongue,
    Remember what old nurse has sung
    Of busy Lady Wind.

  33. Duty

    by Ralph Waldo Emerson

    So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
    So near is God to man,
    When Duty whispers low, "Thou must,"
    The youth replies, "I can."

  34. The Swing

    by Robert Louis Stevenson

    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,
    Rivers 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!

  35. O eyes that open

    by Anonymous

    O eyes that open to the light,
    Look straight to Heav'n with glances bright
    And beam out thanks to God above
    That He has blessed us with His love.

    O little hands be quick to share
    The praise, and fold yourselves in prayer.
    An infant’s prayer must ever rise,
    A grateful incense to the skies.

    O little mind, so weak, distraught,
    Choose thou for subjoct of thy thought
    The loving God, who through the night
    Has kept His little child in sight.

    Open, O little lips, proclaim
    The Father’s love, and bless His name,
    And then a glad “good morning” sound
    To all the dear companions round.

  36. Nineteen Birds

    by Anonymous

    Nineteen birds and one bird more,
    Just make twenty, and that's a score.

    To the score then add but one;
    That will make just twenty-one.

    Now add two, and you will see
    You have made up twenty-three.

    If you like these clever tricks.
    Add three more-for twenty-six.

    Then three more, if you have time;
    Now you’ve got to twenty-nine.

    Twenty-nine now quickly take—
    Add one more and Thirty make.

  37. Nest Eggs

    by Robert Louis Stevenson

    Birds all the sunny day
    Flutter and quarrel
    Here in the arbour-like
    Tent of the laurel.

    Here in the fork
    The brown nest is seated;
    Four little blue eggs
    The mother keeps heated.

    While we stand watching her
    Staring like gabies,
    Safe in each egg are the
    Bird's little babies.

    Soon the frail eggs they shall
    Chip, and upspringing
    Make all the April woods
    Merry with singing.

    Younger than we are,
    O children, and frailer,
    Soon in blue air they'll be,
    Singer and sailor.

    We, so much older,
    Taller and stronger,
    We shall look down on the
    Birdies no longer.

    They shall go flying
    With musical speeches
    High over head in the
    Tops of the beeches.

    In spite of our wisdom
    And sensible talking,
    We on our feet must go
    Plodding and walking.

  38. Singing

    by Robert Louis Stevenson

    Of speckled eggs the birdie sings
    And nests among the trees;
    The sailor sings of ropes and things
    In ships upon the seas.

    The children sing in far Japan,
    The children sing in Spain;
    The organ with the organ man
    Is singing in the rain.

  39. Winter-Time

    by Robert Louis Stevenson

    Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
    A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
    Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
    A blood-red orange, sets again.

    Before the stars have left the skies,
    At morning in the dark I rise;
    And shivering in my nakedness,
    By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

    Close by the jolly fire I sit
    To warm my frozen bones a bit;
    Or with a reindeer-sled, explore
    The colder countries round the door.

    When to go out, my nurse doth wrap
    Me in my comforter and cap;
    The cold wind burns my face, and blows
    Its frosty pepper up my nose.

    Black are my steps on silver sod;
    Thick blows my frosty breath abroad;
    And tree and house, and hill and lake,
    Are frosted like a wedding-cake.

  40. The Little New Year's Come to Stay

    by Annette Wynne

    The little new year's come to stay,
    To be our guest for many a day;
    O let us keep the new year new
    By being earnest, brave, and true,
    And doing kind things all year through-
    So only, can the little year
    Stay new and bright and full of cheer.

  41. The Woodpecker

    by Elizabeth Madox Roberts

    The woodpecker pecked out a little round hole
    And made him a house in the telephone pole.

    One day when I watched he poked out his head,
    And he had on a hood and a collar of red.

    When the streams of rain pour out of the sky,
    And the sparkles of lightning go flashing by,

    And the big, big wheels of thunder roll,
    He can snuggle back in the telephone pole.

  42. 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.

  43. I Marred a Day

    by Annette Wynne

    I marred a day, a shining day,
    (God lent it clean and bright);
    I sent it lusterless away,
    I dimmed its gracious light;
    And God I know was sorrowing
    For that poor soiled and tarnished thing.

    In everlasting tenderness
    Another day of light
    God sent; each hour I strove to bless,
    I kept it clean and bright;
    And God was glad—it shone away
    The meanness of my other day.

  44. The Elephant

    by Annette Wynne

    The elephant is very large
    And clumsy as a wooden barge,
    With legs like tree-trunks, yet he's mild
    And gentle as a little child.

    The elephant walks far away
    And sees strange children in their play,
    And carries logs and iron bars
    As easily as motor-cars.

    The elephant's a great big beast—
    Not beautiful, but good, at least,
    Strong as a tree, but withal mild
    And gentle as a little child.

  45. Days

    by Annette Wynne

    Every sort of day together,
    Makes a year of every weather,
    Rainy days and clear days, warm days and cool,
    Holidays, vacation days and days to go to school,
    Winter days and summer days and days of spring and fall,
    To make the calendar, my dear, we have to take them all;
    Here's a pretty day for trying, here's a rainy day for working,
    But I cannot find a single day in all the year for shirking.
    There are days when we are very glad,
    And days when we are still and sad;
    But on all days, I find it good
    To do to others as I would
    Be done by—that's the way
    To keep each passing day
    And so spend happy times together
    In sunny or in windy weather.

  46. Letters Are Small Angels

    by Annette Wynne

    Letters are small angels flying in between
    All the houses of the town, red, and gray, and green;
    And the postman helps them, shows them just the way,
    As he walks along the street smiling all the day.
    Take the letters gladly—with their white, white wings,
    Blessèd little angels, telling happy things!

  47. My Book Holds Many Stories

    by Annette Wynne

    My book holds many stories, wrapped tightly in itself,
    And yet it never makes a noise but waits upon my shelf
    Until I come and take it; then soon my book and I
    Are sailing on a fairy sea or floating in the sky.

  48. Each Dawn

    by Annette Wynne

    Each dawn before my eyes I see
    A shining new day spread for me;
    All trace of worn-out yesterday
    The winds of night have washed away.
    O let me use God's hand-work well—
    His glorious daily miracle!

  49. For a Child's Book

    by Annette Wynne

    My book is such a dainty thing—
    Its pretty pages fluttering
    Are wings of white—my book would fly
    Out through the window, past the sky.

    But, little book, don't fly away,
    I'll keep you carefully each day;
    And every night upon my shelf
    You'll have a nest all to yourself.

  50. O Sea With Good Arms

    by Annette Wynne

    O sea with good arms, loving and strong,
    Folding the dear lands all the year long,
    Holding quite gently the mountain and tree,
    And the birds that build nests, and the children like me.

  51. The Little Plant on the Window Speaks

    by Annette Wynne

    If you had let me stay all winter long outside,
    Long, long ago, I should have died.
    And so I'll live for you and keep
    A little summer while the others sleep—
    A little summer on your window-sill—
    I'll be your growing garden spot until
    The rough winds go away,
    And great big gardens call you out to play.

  52. God's House Has a Ceiling

    by Annette Wynne

    God's house has a ceiling that's curved and far and high
    And beautiful and soft and blue—God's ceiling is the sky.

    And from God's ceiling hang rare lamps all radiant with light,
    One great big sun for all the day, and a million stars for night.

  53. The Little New Pupil

    by Annette Wynne

    Brand new pupil came to school,
    His eyes—how quick and bright!—
    I wonder, will he learn each rule—
    And learn to read and write?

    I hope he'll always wipe his feet
    On coming up the stair,
    And keep his face and garments neat,
    And brush his teeth and hair.

    A brand new pupil came to school,
    I fear he came to play—
    I fear he'll never keep the rule—
    He's but a kitten gray.

  54. The Sunshine Has a Pleasant Way

    by Annette Wynne

    The sunshine has a pleasant way
    Of shining on us all the day,
    It makes the little window bright,
    And fills the room with pretty light.

    It goes into the garden bed,
    And shines on every flower head;
    It warms each leaf and bud and seed
    Till all the world is glad, indeed.

    It creeps into the children's faces
    And climbs into the highest places,
    It makes me want to work and sing
    And do my best in everything.

    I'm glad the sunshine comes each day
    To help me work and laugh and play;
    To keep the little window bright
    And fill the room with pretty light.

  55. A Thought

    by Robert Louis Stevenson

    It is very nice to think
    The world is full of meat and drink,
    With little children saying grace
    In every Christian kind of place.

  56. Little Folks in the Grass

    by Annette Wynne

    In the grass
    A thousand little people pass,
    And all about a myriad little eyes look out,
    For there are houses every side
    Where the little folks abide,
    Where the little folks take tea
    On a grass blade near a tree;
    Where they hold their Sabbath meetings,
    Pass each other, giving greetings,
    So remember when you pass
    Through the grass;
    Little folks are everywhere;
    Walk quite softly, take great care
    Lest you hurt them unaware,
    Lest the giant that is YOU
    Pull a house down with his shoe,
    Pull a house down, roof and all,
    Killing children, great and small;
    So the wee eyes look at you
    As you walk the meadows through,
    So remember when you pass
    Through the grass!

  57. The Grassy-Meadow-School

    by Annette Wynne

    In the grassy meadow school
    All the flowers learn the rule,
    Every flower stands up straight,
    Not a one is cross or late,
    Straggling in the schoolhouse gate.

    Not a flower has a book;
    But the teacher, Meadow Brook,
    Tells the lesson all the day,
    Talking in her meadow way—
    (You may think it's only play!)

    But it's serious, indeed,
    Teaching every flower and seed.
    For the flowers in a row
    Learn what but the wisest know,
    That the best thing is to grow!

  58. Before It's Time to Go to Bed

    by Annette Wynne

    Before it's time to go to bed,
    Let's have a feast," October said,
    "Let's call our family all together,
    And celebrate this pleasant weather";
    Then every leaf put on her best,
    And each small shrub most richly dressed,
    In red and gold and orange, too,
    And many another party hue.
    The party lasted day and night,
    Until the leaves were tired quite,
    "O Mother Dear," at last each said,
    "It's time for us to go to bed;
    Dear Mother Tree, good-night to you!"
    Then loosed her hand and off it flew,
    And every little sleepy head
    Soon settled in the garden bed,
    And dreamed the dreams that flowers do
    And slept and slept the winter through.

  59. Morning

    by Annette Wynne

    Dear Lord, that takes the night,
    Thank you for the morning light;
    When little stars all hide away,
    Thank you for the sun and day!

  60. The Mother Moon

    by Louisa May Alcott

    The moon upon the wide, wide sea,
    All placidly looks down,
    And smileth with her gentle face,
    Though billows rage and frown.
    Dark clouds may dim her brightness,
    But soon they pass away,
    And she shines out unaltered
    O'er the little waves at play.
    And 'mid the calm or tempest,
    Wherever she may go,
    Led on by her persuasion,
    The restless sea must flow.

    Just as the tranquil summer moon
    Looks on the troubled sea,
    Thy mother's calm and tender face,
    Dear child, is watching thee.
    Then banish every tempest,
    Chase all your clouds away,
    That in her smile-light placidly
    Your happy heart may play!
    Let cheerful looks and actions
    Like shining ripples flow,
    Obedient to the mother's will,
    And singing as they go.

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