Children poems
/ page 89 of 244 /
To Mrs. Professor In Defense Of My Cat's Honor And Not Only
© Czeslaw Milosz
My valiant helper, a small-sized tiger
Sleeps sweetly on my desk, by the computer,
Unaware that you insult his tribe.
A Thaw
© Peter McArthur
THE farm-house fire is dull and black,
The trailing smoke rolls white and low
The Mother Who Died Too
© Edith Matilda Thomas
SHE was so littlelittle in her grave,
The wide earth all around so hard and cold
The Breasts of Mnasidice
© Pierre Louys
Carefully she opened her tunic with one
hand and offered me her warm soft breasts as
one offers a pair of living pigeons to the
goddess. 'Love them well,' she said to me,
Under The Washington Elm, Cambridge
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
EIGHTY years have passed, and more,
Since under the brave old tree
Our fathers gathered in arms, and swore
They would follow the sign their banners bore,
And fight till the land was free.
What Makes An Artist
© Edgar Albert Guest
We got to talking art one day, discussing in a general way
How some can match with brush and paint the glory of a tree,
And some in stone can catch the things of which the dreamy poet sings,
While others seem to have no way to tell the joys they see.
Sarah Cynthia Slyvia Stout Would Not Take The Garbage Out
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
The Summer Children
© Edgar Albert Guest
I like 'em, in the winter when their cheeks are slightly pale,
I like 'em in the spring time when the March winds blow a gale;
Oxford
© Gerald Gould
I came to Oxford in the light
Of a spring-coloured afternoon;
Some clouds were grey and some were white,
And all were blown to such a tune
Of quiet rapture in the sky,
I laughed to see them laughing by.
Scala Jacobi Portaque Eburnea
© Francis Thompson
Her soul from earth to Heaven lies,
Like the ladder of the vision,
Whereon go
To and fro,
In ascension and demission,
Star-flecked feet of Paradise.
The Duellist - Book II
© Charles Churchill
Deep in the bosom of a wood,
Out of the road, a Temple stood:
The Martyrdom Of St. Christina, By Vincenzo Catena, In The Church Of Santa Maria Mater Domini, At Ve
© Richard Monckton Milnes
ST. CHRISTINA.
(KNEELING.)
I knew, I knew, it would be so,
That, in this long--expected hour,
Torto Volitans Sub Verbere Turbo Quem Pueri Magno In Gyro Vacua Atria Circum Intenti Ludo Exercent
© James Clerk Maxwell
Of pearies and their origin I sing:
How at the first great Jove the lord of air
Gillespie.
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Riding at dawn, riding alone,
Gillespie left the town behind;
Before he turned by the Westward road
A horseman crossed him, staggering blind.
The Princess (part 5)
© Alfred Tennyson
Home they brought her warrior dead:
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry:
All her maidens, watching, said,
'She must weep or she will die.'
Grandmother Speaks of the Old Country by Lola Haskins: American Life in Poetry #64 Ted Kooser, U.S.
© Ted Kooser
Storytelling binds the past and present together, and is as essential to community life as are food and shelter. Many of our poets are masters at reshaping family stories as poetry. Here Lola Haskins retells a haunting tale, cast in the voice of an elder. Like the best stories, there are no inessential details. Every word counts toward the effect.
Grandmother Speaks of the Old Country
The Lure That Failed
© Edgar Albert Guest
I know a wonderful land, I said,
Where the skies are always blue,
The Mother's Return
© William Wordsworth
A MONTH, sweet Little-ones, is past
Since your dear Mother went away,--
And she tomorrow will return;
Tomorrow is the happy day.
