Children poems
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Mother Earth
© Henry Van Dyke
Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed,
Mother of all the grass that weaves over their graves the glory of the field,
What Grandpa Mouse Said
© Vachel Lindsay
The moons a holy owl-queen.
She keeps them in a jar
Under her arm till evening,
Then sallies forth to war.
The Children
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE children! ah, the children!
Your innocent, joyous ones;
Your daughters, with souls of sunshine;
Your buoyant and laughing sons.
At The Pantomime
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE house was crammed from roof to floor,
Heads piled on heads at every door;
A Country Nosegay
© Alfred Austin
Where have you been through the long sweet hours
That follow the fragrant feet of June?
By the dells and the dingles gathering flowers,
Ere the dew of the dawn be sipped by noon.
The Song of the Surf
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
WHITE steeds of ocean, that leap with a hollow and wearisome roar
On the bar of ironstone steep, not a fathoms length from the shore,
Hunger
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I come among the peoples like a shadow.
I sit down by each man's side.
The Cathedral
© James Russell Lowell
Far through the memory shines a happy day,
Cloudless of care, down-shod to every sense,
Italy : 4. The Great St. Bernard
© Samuel Rogers
Night was again descending, when my mule,
That all day long had climbed among the clouds,
Higher and higher still, as by a stair
Let down from heaven itself, transporting me,
The Dustman
© Bliss William Carman
'DUSTMAN, dustman!'
Through the deserted square he cries,
And babies put their rosy fists
Into their eyes.
A Song of Honour
© Ralph Hodgson
I climbed a hill as light fell short,
And rooks came home in scramble sort,
On The Receipt Of My Mother's Picture Out Of Norfolk
© William Cowper
Oh that those lips had language! Life has pass'd
With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
Those lips are thinethy own sweet smiles I see,
The same that oft in childhood solaced me
Family Reunion by Catherine Barnett: American Life in Poetry #67 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004
© Ted Kooser
One in a series of elegies by New York City poet Catherine Barnett, this poem describes the first gathering after death has shaken a family to its core. The father tries to help his grown daughter forget for a moment that, a year earlier, her own two daughters were killed, that she is now alone. He's heartsick, realizing that drinking can only momentarily ease her pain, a pain and love that takes hold of the entire family. The children who join her in the field are silent guardians.
Family Reunion
My father scolded us all for refusing his liquor.
He kept buying tequila, and steak for the grill,
until finally we joined him, making margaritas,
cutting the fat off the bone.
Mother's Glasses
© Edgar Albert Guest
I've told about the times that Ma can't find her pocketbook,
And how we have to hustle round for it to help her look,
But there's another care we know that often comes our way,
I guess it happens easily a dozen times a day.
It starts when first the postman through the door a letter passes,
And Ma says: "Goodness gracious me! Wherever are my glasses?"
A Masque Presented At Ludlow Castle, 1634. (Comus)
© John Milton
The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of
deliciousness: soft music, tables spread with all dainties. Comus
appears with his rabble, and the LADY set in an enchanted chair;
to
whom he offers his glass; which she puts by, and goes about to
rise.
The Stirrup Cup
© John Hay
My short and happy day is done,
The long and dreary night comes on;
And at my door the Pale Horse stands,
To carry me to unknown lands.
The God And The Bayadere - An Indian Legend
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Men as man he'd fain perceive.
And when he the town as a trav'ller hath seen,
Observing the mighty, regarding the mean,
He quits it, to go on his journey, at eve.
The Ghost's Leavetaking
© Sylvia Plath
Enter the chilly no-man's land of about
Five o'clock in the morning, the no-color void
Where the waking head rubbishes out the draggled lot
Of sulfurous dreamscapes and obscure lunar conundrums
Which seemed, when dreamed, to mean so profoundly much,
