Where Go the Boats?
Robert Louis Stevenson
Dark brown is the river.
Golden is the sand,
It flows along forever,
With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a'floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a'boating-
Where will all come home?
On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.
Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.
Serious Omission
John Farrar
I know that there are dragons,
St. George's, Jason's, too,
And many modern dragons
With scales of green and blue;
But though I've been there many times
And carefully looked through,
I cant find a dragon
In the cages at the zoo!
Farewell to the Farm
Robert Louis Stevenson
The coach is at the door at last;
The eager children, mounting fast
And kissing hands, in chorus sing:
"Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
"To house and garden, field and lawn,
The meadow-gates we swang upon,
To pump and stable, tree and swing,
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!
"And fare you well for evermore,
O ladder at the hayloft door,
O hayloft where the cobwebs cling,
Good'bye, good-bye, to everything!"
Crack goes the whip, and off we go;
The trees and houses smaller grow;
Last, round the woody turn we swing;
"Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!"
Bread Making
E. L. M. King
Mother's kneading, kneading dough,
In and out her knuckles go;
Till the sticky, shapeless lump
Grows a pillow, smooth and plump.
Then she cuts it, pops it in
To the neatly buttered tin,
Leaves it rising high and higher,
While she goes to make the fire.
How the glad flames leap and roar,
Through the open oven-door;
Till their hot breath, as they play,
Makes us wink and run away.
When they've burnt to embers red
Mother shovels in the bread;
And that warm, delicious smell
Tells her it is baking well.
When it's golden, just like wheat,
We shall get a crust to eat;
How I wish we could be fed
Every day on new-made bread!
General Store
Rachel Field
Some day I'm going to have a store
With a tinkly bell hung over the door,
With real glass cases and counters wide
And drawers all spilly with things inside.
There'll be a little of everything:
Bolts of calico; balls of string;
Jars of peppermint; tins of tea;
Pots and kettles and crockery;
Seeds in packets; scissors bright;
Kegs of sugar, brown and white;
Sarsaparilla for picnic lunches,
Bananas and rubber boots in bunches.
I'll fix the window and dust each shelf,
And take the money in all myself.
It will be my store and I will say:
"What can I do for you today?"
Little
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.
The Circus
Elizabeth Madox Roberts
Friday came and the circus was there,
And Mother said that the twins and I
And Charles and Clarence and all of us
Could go out and see the parade go by.
And there were wagons with pictures on,
And you never could guess what they had inside,
Nobody could guess, for the doors were shut,
And there was a dog that a monkey could ride.
A man on the top of a sort of cart
Was clapping his hands and making a talk.
And the elephant came- he can step pretty far-
It made us laugh to see him walk.
Three beautiful ladies came riding by,
And each one had on a golden dress,
And each one had a golden whip.
They were queens of Sheba, I guess.
A big wild man was in a cage,
And he had some snakes going over his feet.
And somebody said, "He eats them alive!"
But I didn't see him eat.
Doorbells
Rachel Field
You never know with a doorbell
Who may be ringing it-
It may be Great-Aunt Cynthia
To spend the day and knit;
It may be a peddler with things to sell
(I'll buy some when I'm older),
Or the grocer's boy with his apron on
And a basket on his shoulder;
It may be the old umbrella-man
Giving his queer, cracked call,
Or a lady dressed in rustly silk,
With card-case and parasol.
Doorbells are like a magic game,
Or the grab-bag at a fair-
You never know when you hear one ring
Who may be waiting there!
The Animal Store
Rachel Field
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 a 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.
The Horse
James Stephens
A sparrow hopped about the street,
And he was not a bit afraid;
He flew between a horse's feet,
And ate his supper undismayed:
I think myself the horse knew well
The bird came for the grains that fell.
For his eye was looking down,
And he danced the corn about
In his nosebag, till the brown
Grains of corn were tumbled out;
And I fancy that he said,
"Eat it up, young Speckle-Head!"
The driver then came back again,
He climbed into the heavy dray;
And he tightened up the rein,
Cracked his whip and drove away.
But when the horse's ribs were hit,
The sparrow did not care a bit.
Little Tiger Cat
Annette Wynne
Little Tiger Cat with the spotted face,
Do you think you've found a baby-jungle-
place?
Going through the grass, stealthily and slow,
Are you waiting to jump out and scare the
folks you know?
And send them running to the house as fast
as they can go?
Little Tiger Cat, it's no use at all,
No matter what you think yourself, you're
rather tame and small,
And with all your hiding and your stern con-
templation,
You cannot scare a single one of high or
lowly station,
And so, there's no use trying to be like your
wild relation.
The Duck by E. L. M. King
If I were in a fairy tale,
And it were my good luck
To have a wish, I'd choose to be
A lovely snow-white duck.
When she puts off into the pond
And leaves me on the brink,
She wags her stumpy tail at me,
And gives a saucy wink,
Which says as plain as words could say,
Fm safe as safe can be,
Stay there, or you will drown yourself.
The pond was made for me.
She goes assailing to and fro,
Just like a fishing boat,
And steers and paddles all herself,
And never wets her coat.
Then in the water, upside down,
I've often seen her stand
More neatly than the little boys
Who do it on the land.
And best of all, her children are
The ducklings, bright as gold,
Who swim about the pond with her
And do as they are told.