With her dripping curls,
And her crown of pearls,
And the looking-glass in her hands!
—JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY
Ducks’ Ditty
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.
Everyone for what he likes!
We like to be
Heads down, tails up,
Dabbling free!
High in the blue above
Swifts whirl and call—
We are down a-dabbling
Up tails all!
—KENNETH GRAHAME
Swimming
When all the days are hot and long
And robin bird has ceased his song,
I go swimming every day
And have the finest kind of play.
I’ve learned to dive and I can float
As easily as does a boat;
I splash and plunge and laugh and shout
Till Daddy tells me to come out.
It’s much too soon; I’d like to cry
For I can see the ducks go by,
And Daddy Duck—how I love him—
He lets his children swim and swim!
I feel that I would be in luck
If I could only be a duck!
—CLINTON SCOLLARD
If
If all the land were apple-pie,
And all the sea were ink;
And all the trees were bread and cheese,
What should we do for drink?
—ANONYMOUS
The Fisherman
The fisherman goes out at dawn
When every one’s abed,
And from the bottom of the sea
Draws up his daily bread.
His life is strange; half on the shore
And half upon the sea—
Not quite a fish, and yet not quite
The same as you and me.
The fisherman has curious eyes;
They make you feel so queer,
As if they had seen many things
Of wonder and of fear.
They’re like the sea on foggy days,—
Not gray, nor yet quite blue;
They’re like the wondrous tales he tells—
Not quite—yet maybe—true.
He knows so much of boats and tides,
Of winds and clouds and sky!
But when I tell of city things,
He sniffs and shuts one eye!
—ABBIE FARWELL BROWN
O Sailor, Come Ashore
O sailor, come ashore,
What have you brought for me?
Red coral, white coral,
Coral from the sea.
I did not dig it from the ground,
Nor pluck it from a tree;
Feeble insects made it
In the stormy sea.
—CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
In the Night
The night was growing old
As she trudged through snow and sleet;
Her nose was long and cold,
And her shoes were full of feet.
—ANONYMOUS
Dutch Lullaby
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,—
Sailed on a river of misty 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 sung 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 the beautiful sea.
“Now cast your nets wherever you wish,
But never afeard are we!”
So cried the stars to the fishermen three,
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
All night long their nets they threw
For the fish in the twinkling foam,
Then down from the sky 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 folk thought ’t was 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 on the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen
three,—
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.
—EUGENE FIELD
The Walrus and the Carpenter
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?”
“I 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.
But 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,
&nbs
p; 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 me 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 sympathise.”
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.
—LEWIS CARROLL
Laughing Song
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!”
—WILLIAM BLAKE
The Man in the Wilderness
The man in the wilderness asked of me,
How many strawberries grow in the sea?
I answered him as I thought good,
As many red herrings as grow in the wood.
—ANONYMOUS
What Is Pink?
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!
—CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
The Purple Cow
I never saw a Purple Cow,
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I’d rather see than be one.
—GELETT BURGESS
The Owl and the Pussy-cat
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!”
II
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.
“What a beautiful Pussy you are!”
III
“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.
—EDWARD LEAR
Antigonish
As I was going up the stair
I met a man who wasn’t there;
He wasn’t there again today—
I wish, I wish, he’d stay away.
—HUGHES MEARNS
There Was a Little Girl
There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good
She was very, very good,
And when she was bad she was horrid.
One day she went upstairs,
When her parents, unawares,
In the kitchen were occupied with meals
And she stood upon her head
In her little trundle-bed,
And then began hooraying with her heels.
Her mother heard the noise,
And she thought it was the boys
A-playing at a combat in the attic;
But when she climbed the stair,
And found Jemima there,
She took and she did spank her most
emphatic.
—ANONYMOUS
A Magician
My brother Roger said to me,
“I am a great magician. See?
I’ll make your dolls all laugh and talk,
Your Teddy bear shall dance and walk,
Your little china pug shall bark,
The creatures in your Noah’s ark
Shall march in order, two by two;
And I shall do these things for you
On the thirty-first of September.
“And you shall be a princess fair,
With trailing gown and golden hair.
The
prince just now looks like the cat;
He’s been bewitched—I’ll change all that.
You’ll find the doll’s house turned into
A royal palace, when I’m through.
For I’m a great magician. See?
And all this shall be done by me
On the thirty-first of September.”
Just think how splendid it will be
When Roger does these things for me.
I didn’t know he was so great,
And oh, dear! I can hardly wait
For the thirty-first of September!
—EUNICE WARD
King Arthur
When good King Arthur ruled the land,
He was a goodly king:
He stole three pecks of barley meal,
To make a bag-pudding.
A bag-pudding the king did make,
And stuffed it well with plums;
Favorite Poems of Childhood Page 3