The Train by C. H. Crandall

The Train

by C. H. Crandall

Hark!

It comes!

It hums!

With ear to ground

I catch the sound,

The warning courier-roar

That runs along before.

The pulsing, struggling, now is clearer!

The hillsides echo "nearer, nearer,"

Till like a drove of rushing, trampling

cattle,

With dust and wind and clang and 

Shriek and rattle,

Passes the cyclops of the train!

I see a fair face at the pane,--

Like a piano string

The rails, unburdened, sing;

The white smoke flies

Up to the skies;

The sound 

Is drowned--

Hark!

The Woodpecker

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.

Woodpecker feeds here babies, well one of them anyhow.

The Sea Gull by Mary Howitt

The Sea Gull

by Mary Howitt

Oh, the white Sea-gull, the wild Sea-gull,

A joyful bird is he,

As he lies like a cradled thing at rest

In the arms of a sunny sea!

The little waves rock to and fro,

And the white gull lies asleep,

As the fisher's bark, with breeze and tide,

Goes merrily over the deep!

The ship, with her fair sails set, goes by,

And her people stand to note

How the Sea-gull sits on the rocking waves,

As if in an anchored boat.

The sea is fresh, the sea is fair,

And the sky calm overhead,

And the Sea-gull lies on the deep, deep sea.

Like a king in his royal bed.

The Caterpillar

The Caterpillar

by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Brown and furry

Caterpillar in a hurry;

Take your walk

To the shady leaf, or stalk.

May no toad spy you,

May the little birds pass by you;

Spin and die,

To live again a butterfly. 

This beautiful child has learned her caterpillar poem!

The Plains' Call...

The Plains' Call

by Arthur Chapman

I must ride out on the plains again,

With a horse 'twixt knee and knee,

Where the wolves howl and the winds growl,

And the clouds drift fast o'er me;

I must ride out on the plains once more,

On the Westland's broad and level floor.

I must ride forth on the plains at morn,

Where the cactus flowers are,

And the lark calls, and the white walls

Of the mountain loom afar;

I must ride out, when breaks the day--

Ride where the gods of outdoors play.

I must ride out on the plains at night,

And smell the dew wet sage,

When the moon glows, and the late snows

Gleam like a book's white page;

I must ride out on the plains again,

And quit this haunt of pygmy men.

Rain In Summer

Rain In Summer

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

How beautiful is the rain!

After the dust and heat,

In the broad and fiery street,

In the narrow lane,

How beautiful is the rain!

How it clatters along the roofs

Like the tramp of hoofs!

How it gushes and struggles out

From the throat of the overflowing spout!

Across the window-pane

It pours and pours;

And swift and wide,

With a muddy tide,

Like a river down the gutter roars

The rain, the welcome rain!

This is absolutely adorable!
A baby girl and her father in the rain.

When Winter Comes

Two squirrels gather nuts beneath a large oak in the forest.

When Winter Comes

by G. H. L.

When winter comes, the squirrels find

Some shelter from the winds unkind;

Some hollow tree where nuts they store,

Enough to last 'till winter's o'er;

There, safe from harm, they build their nest

And settle down to take a rest,

Their larder full of nuts and wheat,

All that they do is sleep and eat;

When winter comes, Ah me! I find

Some thoughtless ones of humankind,

Who never build a cozy nest, 

Prepare for time to take a rest;

Who when they strong north wind blows cold

Are friendless, helpless, hungry-old.