Children poems
/ page 79 of 244 /The Family's Homely Man
© Edgar Albert Guest
And always it's the homely man that happens in to mend
The little toys the youngsters break, for he's the children's friend.
And he's the one that sits all night to watch beside the dead,
And sends the worn-out sorrowers and broken hearts to bed.
The family wouldn't be complete without him night or day,
To smooth the little troubles out and drive the cares away.
Evangeline: Part The First. III.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
BENT like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of the ocean,
Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the notary public;
Morituri Salutamus: Poem For The 50th Anniversary Of The Class Of 1825 In Bowdoin College
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Tempora labuntur, tacitisque senescimus annis,
Et fugiunt freno non remorante dies.
~OVID, Fastorum, Lib. vi.
The Roll Of Roly Poly Roy
© Carolyn Wells
Once on a time a lad I knew--
His sister called him Bubby;
Army Of Northern Virginia
© Stephen Vincent Benet
He only said it once-the marble closed-
There was a man enclosed within that image.
There was a force that tried Proportion's rule
And died without a legend or a cue
To bring it back. The shadow-Lees still live.
But the first-person and the singular Lee?
Batuschka
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
From yonder gilded minaret
Beside the steel-blue Neva set,
I faintly catch, from time to time,
The sweet, aerial midnight chime-
"God save the Tsar!"
Don Juan: Canto The Third
© George Gordon Byron
The isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set.
Ode To The Spirit Of The Earth In Autumn
© George Meredith
The crimson-footed nymph is panting up the glade,
With the wine-jar at her arm-pit, and the drunken ivy-braid
Round her forehead, breasts, and thighs: starts a Satyr, and they
speed:
Hear the crushing of the leaves: hear the cracking of the bough!
And the whistling of the bramble, the piping of the weed!
Bid McCrae
© Alice Guerin Crist
The church was wrapped in darkness save for the alter-light,
And save where near the marble rail six tapers glimmered bright
Oer waxen heavy-scented flowers and coffin plated deep,
Where the good wife, Mary Halloran lay in her last long sleep.
A Retrospect
© Frances Anne Kemble
Life wanes, and the bright sunlight of our youth
Sets o'er the mountain-tops, where once Hope stood.
The Sower (Eastern France)
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Familiar, year by year, to the creaking wain
Is the long road's level ridge above the plain.
To--day a battery comes with horses and guns
On the straight road, that under the poplars runs,
April
© Charlotte Turner Smith
GREEN o'er the copses spring's soft hues are spreading,
High wave the reeds in the transparent floods,
The oak its sear and sallow foliage shedding,
From their moss'd cradles start its infant buds.
Phoebe
© James Russell Lowell
Ere pales in Heaven the morning star,
A bird, the loneliest of its kind,
Hears Dawn's faint footfall from afar
While all its mates are dumb and blind.
Sonnet 63: Oh Grammar Rules
© Sir Philip Sidney
Oh grammar rules, oh now your virtues show
So children still read you with awefull eyes,
As my young dove may in your precepts wise
Her grant to me, by her own virtue know.
The Things They Musn't Touch
© Edgar Albert Guest
Been down to the art museum an' looked at a thousand things,
The bodies of ancient mummies an' the treasures of ancient kings,
OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII (Entire)
© Alfred Tennyson
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.
Builders Of Ruins
© Alice Meynell
We build with strength and deep tower wall
That shall be shattered thus and thus.
And fair and great are court and hall,
But how fair-this is not for us,
Who know the lack that lurks in all.