By Ada M. Skinner, Frances Gillespy Wickes, Maud Petersham, Miska Petersham
First quantity of A kid's personal e-book of Verse, a three-volume set deliberate to be used in the course of the 4 basic years. This strangely tremendous number of poetry used to be chosen with the kid's pursuits in brain. contains sound rhymes and jingles to attract the ear, descriptive poems to create pictures within the imagination, lullabies and lyrics to hot the guts, and story-telling poems to stir the mind's eye. Attractively illustrated by means of Maud and Miska Petersham. appropriate for a long time five to eight.
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Extra resources for A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book One
I would like you for a comrade; you should share my barley meal, And butt me with your little horns just hard enough to feel; We would lie beneath the chestnut trees and watch the leaves uncurl, If I were not a clumsy calf and you a little girl. —JUDGE PARRY Sir Robin Rollicking Robin is here again. What does he care for the April rain? Care for it? Glad of it! Doesn't he know That the April rain carries off the snow, And coaxes out leaves to shadow his nest, And washes his pretty red Easter vest!
The little red stockings he silently fills, Till the stockings will hold no more; The bright little sleds for the great snow hills Are quickly set down on the floor. Then Santa Claus mounts to the roof like a bird, And glides to his seat in the sleigh; Not the sound of a bugle or drum is heard As he noiselessly gallops away. He rides to the East, and he rides to the West, Of his goodies he touches not one; He eateth the crumbs of the Christmas feast When the dear little folks are done. Old Santa Claus doeth all that he can; This beautiful mission is his; Then, children, be good to the little old man, When you find who the little man is.
MATTHIAS BARR A Verse The lightning and thunder, They go and they come, But the stars and the stillness Are always at home. —GEORGE MACDONALD Somewhere Town Which is the way to Somewhere Town? Oh, up in the morning early. Over the tiles and the chimney pots, That is the way quite clearly. And which is the door to Somewhere Town? Oh, up in the morning early. The round red sun is the door to go through, That is the way quite clearly. —KATE GREENAWAY Cradle Song Sleep, baby, sleep! Thy father's watching the sheep, Thy mother's shaking the dreamland tree, And down drops a little dream for thee.