Storytelling and Other Poems

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\ ONLY ONE MOTHER "LjrUNDREDS of stars in the pretty * * Hundreds of shells on the shore

sky,

together,

Hundreds of birds that go singing by, Hundreds of lambs in the sunny weather/

Hundreds of dewdrops to greet the dawn, Hundreds of bees in the purple clover, Hundreds of butterflies on the lawn, But only one mother the wide world over.

George Cooper

—

WAS

IT

T \ THEN he came to tuck me in * ^ And pat me on the head He tried to guess (he always does) Who was in my bed.

Mt

"Is

it

"Or It's

It

Sally?" he guessed

first,

her sister Joan?

such a wriggling

couldn't be

my

little girl

own.

Mary Ann," he said, "Or Deborah because All their eyes are much too blue "It can't be

My

goodness me, I thinks

And

he was right.

It

it's

you!"

was.

Dorothy Aldis

#

,/k\

And blew another down.

Younu Lucy Ann was

off to school.

In vain she whimpered, "Stop!" It

had that

And

girl

with skirts a-twirl

spinning

The parson had

like a top.

a tall

black hat;

He tipped it to the people. Wind caught it as he went along And tossed it to a steeple.

Good

Mrs.

Calm Began

to

Brown was hanging

little

clothes.

frocks and breeches

hop upon the

line

Like frisky imps and witches.

The wind was

To It

get

wild;

its

fill

it

couldn't seem

of fun.

puffed, "I'm in a perfect gale!"

Then roared about Skylarking, leaping, on Till old

"There,

silly

the pun.

it

man Weather

went,

%

said,

wind, vou'll lose vour breath.

Go home

and go to bed."

So, panting hard,

it

hurried

And weary went

home

to bed.

"What lovely games we had today, The world and I!" it said. Nancy Byrd Turner

#

55

%

^4^ THE PASTURE

going out to clean the pasture

s]

^^I'll only stop to rake the leaves aw.iv (And wait to watch the water clear, I may); I sha'n't be gone long.— You come too. I'm going out to fetch the

little

That's standing by the mother. It totters I

when

sha'n't be

she licks

it

calf It's

so young,

with her tongue.

gone long.— You come

too.

.OBERT Fros:

—

THE HAYLOFT r"PHROUGH -*-

Till

all the pleasant meadow-side grew shoulder-high, the shining scythes went far and wide

The

grass

And

cut

it

down

to dry.

Those green and sweetly smelling crops They led in wagons home; And they piled them here in mountain tops For mountaineers to roam. is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail, Mount Eagle and Mount High;

Here

The mice

No

that in these

mountains dwell,

happier are than

I!

Oh, what a joy to clamber there, a Oh, what a place for play, With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air,^ The happy hills of hay!

Robert Louis Stevenson

7T**

Wt

&\ ALICE'S SUPPER

T^AR down *-

And the And this is

in the

meadow

the wheat

grows green,

reapers are whetting their sickles so keen;

the song that I hear them sing, While cheery and loud their voices ring: "Tis the finest wheat that ever did grow! '

And Far

And And

it

for Alice's supper, ho! ho!"

is

down

in the valley the old mill stands,

the miller

is

these are the

rubbing

his dusty

words of the

white hands;

miller's lav,

As he watches

the millstones a-grinding away: " 'Tis the finest flour that money can buy,

And

it is

for Alice's supper, hi! hi!"

m Downstairs in the kitchen the

And Maggie is kneading And this is the song that While merry and busy " 'Tis the finest

And

it is

she's singing today,

she's

working away:

dough by near or by

far,

the nursery comes Nannie at

her hand

'Tis a plateful of

is

last,

she bringing so fast?

something

all

yellow^

and white,

she sings as she comes with her smile so bright:

" 'Tis the best bread-and-butter

And

doth glow,

for Alice's supper, ha! ha!"

And now to And what in And

fire

the soft white dough,

it is

I

ever did see!

for Alice's supper, he! he!"

Laura

E. Richards

WHITE BUTTERFLIES white butterflies, out to

FLY,

Frail, pale

sea,

wings for the wind to

Small white wings that

we

try,

scarce can see,

Fly!

Some Some

fly light as a laugh of glee,

fly soft as a long,

low

sigh;

All to the haven where each would be, Fly!

Algernon Charles Swinburne

BROWN

and furry

Caterpillar in a

1

Take your walk

To the shady Or what not,

leaf,

Which may be

No

or stalk

the chosen spot.

toad spy you,

^

Hovering bird of prey pass by you; ^ Spin and die,

To

live again a butterfly

Christina Rossetti>--

\\

ARIEL'S

TT 7HERE * *

There

On

the bee sucks, there suck

In a cowslip's bell I

SONG I

I lie;

couch when owls do I do fly

cry.

the bat's back

After

summer

merrily:

Merrily, merrily shall I live

Under the blossom

that

now

hangs on the bough!

William Shakespeare

OVER

HILL,

/^VVER

hill,

OVER DALE

over dale,

^^

f%

Through bush, through brier, Over park, over pale, Through flood, through fire, I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moon's sphere;

And I serve To dew her

the fairy queen,

orbs

The cowslips

tall

upon

the green:

her pensioners be; 5

In their gold coats spots you see

Those be

rubies, fairy favors,

:. In their freckles live their savors:

i

must go seek some dewdrops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. I

William Shakespeare

v\ \\

Nr/

>

THi:

UMBRELLA BRIGADE

^piTTER *~

Such Will

On

a plashing! it

Down And And Are

patter!"

falls

the schoolroom

e'er

such

a

the rain

windowpane.

dashing!

be dry again?

the gutter rolls a flood,

the crossing's deep in

mud;

the puddles! oh, the puddles a sight to stir one's

Chorus.

But

let it

blood!

rain

Tree-toads and frogs,

Muskets and pitchforks, Kittens and dogs!

Dash away! plash away!

Who

is

afraid?

Here we go, The Umbrella Brigade! 61

'

Pull the boots

up to the knee!

Tie the hoods on merrily!

Such

such a jostling!

a hustling!

Out of breath with fun Clatter, clatter,

Greeting every

are we.

down the street, one we meet,

With our laughing and our chaffing, Which the laughing drops repeat. Chorus.

So

let it rain

Tree-toads and frogs,

Muskets and pitchforks, Kittens and dogs!

Dash away!

Who

is

plash away!

afraid?

Here we go, The Umbrella Brigade!

Laura

E. (-,

Richards

4

THE BROOK

COME

from haunts of coot and hern, make a sudden sally,

I

And sparkle out among the To bicker down a valley. By

thirty hills

Or

I

hurry down,

between the

slip

fern,

ridges,

Bv twenty thorps, a little town, And half a hundred bridges. II

last

by

Philip's

farm

I

flow

To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may But I go on for ever.

I

chatter over

In

little

sharps and trebl

bubble into eddying bays,

I

I

babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I tret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow. I

chatter, chatter, as

I

flow

brimming

river, To may men and come may men For

join the

But

I

go on for

ever.

goX

I

wind about, and in and out, With here a blossom sailing,

•».*•

And here and there a lusty trout, And here and there a grayling.

And here and there a foamy Upon me, as I travel

flake

With many a silvery water-break Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But

I

go on for

I steal

ever.

by lawns and grassy by hazel covers;

plots,

I slide I

move tat

X

the sweet forget-me-not

grow

A *|I I

I

for

happy

lovers.

slip, I slide, I

Among

the

Against

my

f^J

gloom,

I

glance

skimming swallows^ make the netted sunbeam dance sandy shallows.

murmur under moon and

stars

In brambly wildernesses; I

linger

by my shingly bars; round my cresses;

I loiter

And out again I curve and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may But

I

go on for

go,

ever.

Alfred Tennyson !fts^

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THEME

IN

YELLOW

SPOT the hills I With yellow balls I

in

autumr

light the prairie cornfields

Orange and tawny gold

And

I

am

On the last When dusk

of October is

fallen

»

%

Children join hands

And

circle

clusters

pumpkins.

called

me

round

Singing ghost songs

And I

am

With

And I

am

love to the harvest

moon;

a jack-o'-lantern

terrible teeth

the children

know

fooling.

Carl Sandburg

tf AITIM r"T

v

HE MORNS

* The

nuts are

meeker than they were, getting brown; are

The berry's cheek is plumper, The rose is out ot town. The maple wears a gayer scarl. The field a scarlet gown. Lest I'll

I

put

should be old-fashioned, a

trinket on.

Emily Dicki\

"3

66

rv

«

FOG

THE

on

It

sits

fog comes 1

little cat feet.

looking

1

f

fl

over harbor and city

on silent haunches and then moves on.

\W

1

•

Carl Sandburg

A VAGABOND SONG

pHERE

r_

•*

fc*

5b

that

is

is

something

native to

in the

Autumn

>H

V

my blood—

J Touch of manner, hint of mood;

And my

heart

is

like a

rhyme,

X

With

the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The

scarlet

of the maples

me like a cry Of bugles going by. And my lonely spirit thrills To see the frosty asters can shake

t

like

J

There

if

smoke upon

something

sets the

in

gypsy blood

the

hills

October astir,

We

must rise and follow her, When from every hill of flame She calls and calls each vagabond by name. Bliss

l\

67

Carmai

WHEN THE FROST "V\ 7"HEN the

^ in And you *

frost

is

IS

ON THE

Pl'NKIN

on the punkin and the fodder's

the shock,

hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin'

turkey-cock,

And the clackin' of the guinevs, and the cluckin' of the hens, And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence; O,

it's

then's the time a feller

is

a-feelin'at his best,

With the risin' sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest, As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock, When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock. They's something kind

o' harty-like

about the atmusfere

When the heat of summer's over and the coolin' fall is hereof course we miss the flowers, and the blossums on the trees, And the mumble of the hummin'-birds and buzzin' of the bees; But the

Of a

air's

crisp

so appetizin'; and the landscape through the haze

and sunny morning of the

airly

autumn days

Is a pictur' that

mock-

When the frost

in the shock.

no painter has the colorin' to is on the punkin and the fodder's

68

The husky,

And The

rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,

the raspin' of the tangled leaves, as golden as the morn;

stubble in the furries— kind o' lonesome-like, but

still

A-preachin' sermuns to us of the barns they growed to

fill;

The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed; The hosses in theyr stalls below— the clover overhead!— O,

it

sets

When

my

hart a-clickin' like the tickin' of a clock,

the frost

is

on the punkin and the fodder's

in

the shock!

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps poured around the cellar-floor

Is

And

in red

and

yeller heaps;

your cider-makin's over, and your wimmern-tolks is

through

With theyr mince and

apple-butter, and theyr souse and

sausage, too! I

don't

know how

to

tell

it— but ef sich

a thing

could be

on me— want to 'commodate 'em— all the whole-indurin' flockWhen the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock!

As

the Angels wantin' boardin', and they'd call around

I'd

James Whitcomb Riley 69

SILVER TREES

N THE FALL I With From a distance they were As silver as a lake at night. But closer up

Were

silver

I

saw some

leaves, with

quite

saw that they and silver-white.

I

silver-green

In the

On

fall I

saw some leaves on silver trees.

silver trees,

And then I thought, "When they And snow and ice fall down upon

are

gone

The branches and the twigs some day, The trees will still have silver on."

A

1

1.

hi

\ Fisher

.«*"

THE r"pHE

FIRST

SNOW FALL

snow had begun

* And

busily

all

in the

gloaming,

the night

Mad been heaping field and highway silence deep and white. With .1

Every pine and fir and hemlock \\ ore ermine too dear for an earl, And the poorest twig on the elm tree

Was

ridged inch deep with pearl.

James Russell Lowell

trees

silver

leaves.

LOOK AT THE SNOW!

TOOK -•—'

at the

Look

Let's

all

And

snow!

the snow!

at

take our sleds,

go!

Up the hill we walk slow, And drag our red sleds in But once

That

at the

like the

top of the

wind

slow, the snow; hill,

we know

they'll go, go, go,

Whizzing down to the flat, below. Oh, the fun as we swiftly fly Over the snow like a bird on high! It

takes our breath as our sleds speed by;

No

one's as happy as

— Summers But we

you and

I!

may come, and summers may

like the

go,

snow, the snow, the snow!

Mary Carolyn Davi

t

+

WHITE FIELDS intertime

we go

in the fields o

there re the

is

no grass

at

all;

top of every wall,

lence and every tree, hite as

white can be.

ting out the

way we came.

Every one of them the same -M All across the fields there be Prints in silver filigree;

And

our mothers always know,

By the

footprints in the snow,

Where

it

P^

is

14

the children go.

James Stephens

if

N

THE SNOW MAN /^\NE DAY ^-^ He

snow man,

the

started to melt as a

Benjamin Buzz,

Sir

snow man

does.

-^~

Down Over

ran the his

crown of

e noticed his whiskers

^Along

his icicled hat

forehead and right after that

go lolloping by

with his chin and his collar and

tie.

Then Benjamin looked and saw that his gliding away through his coat and

chest

Was

And

after a little

There goes

And

scarce had he

That both of

Down

Hum!

he sighed, "Ho!

a finger

his Vestal

and there goes a thumb!"

spoken when Benjamin felt were beginning to melt;

his legs

they ran dribbling, bit after

bit,

Like two creamy candles a sunbeam had

am

"Alas," cried Sir Ben, "I

And

the next thing he

Then

And

little

by

little

knew he

Who

that

is

sat

a

down

bump!" with

a

thump.

he slipped like a sleigh,

quietly, quietly slithered

And next when he noticed He looked for himself and And

merely

lit.

away;

the spot he was on,

he saw he was gone.

the story of Benjamin Buzz,

melted one day as

a

snow man

does.

Mildred Plew

£-'••

a V

- ,iT WE THANK THEE

FATHER,

T^OR FLOWERS

*

Father,

that

bloom about

o\

feet,

we thank Thee,

For tender grass so fresh and sweet, Father, we thank Thee, For song of bird and hum of bee,

r»

For

S

all

things fair

Father in heaven,

we hear or see, we thank Thee.

For blue of stream and blue of sky, Father,

we thank Thee,

For pleasant shade of branches high, Father,

we thank Thee,

For fragrant

air

and cooling breeze,

For beauty of the blooming

trees,

Father in heaven, \vc thank Thee.

For

this

Father,

For

rest

Father,

new morning with we thank Thee, and

its

light,

shelter of the night,

we thank Thee,

For health and food, for love and

friends,

For everything Thy goodness sends, Father in heaven, we thank Thee.

w^H£

HUMOROUS POEMS

/^OME ^-^ and

To

live

and be merry,

join with

me,

sing the sweet chorus

of "Ha, ha, he!"

Li..*

William Blake

["

LOVE

* Or

to see a lobster laugh

see a turtle wiggle

Or poke a hippopotamus And see the monster giggle, Or even stand around at night And watch the mountains wriggle. Lerov

A FARxMER'S BOY r

"PHEY

strolled

down

the lane together,

*•

The sky was studded with stars. They reached the gate in silence,

And

he

lifted

down

the bars.

She neither smiled nor thanked him Because she knew not how;

For he was

And

just a farmer's

she was a Jersey cow!

bov

F.

Jackson

mJmK& :

6

Walt Disney Productions

1948,

ELETELEPHONY /^VNCE

there

was an elephant,

^^ Who

tried to use the telephant

No! no!

mean an elephone

Who

I

tried to use the telephone

am not That even now I've (Dear me!

Howe'er

it

I

—

—

certain quite

got

right

it

was, he got his trunk

Entangled in the telephunk;

The more he tried The louder buzzed (I fear I'd

Of

better

to get

it

free,

the telephee

—

drop the song

elephop and telephong!)

Laura

E. Richards

83

jr THE DOG (As '""PHE -*

DOG

is

Seen by the Cat)

black or white or brown,

And sometimes

spotted like a clown.

He loves to make a foolish noise, And Human Company enjoys. The Human People

And And

pat his head

teach him to pretend he's dead, beg, and fetch, and carry, too;

Things that no well-bred Cat _,

^K£ WW

At Human jokes, however He jumps about and wags

And Human People And think he really They They

say

will do.

stale,

his tail,

clap their hands

understands.

"Good Dog"

to him.

To

us

Why

"Poor Puss," and make no fuss. Dogs are "good" and Cats are "poor"

I

to understand, I'm sure.

fail

say

To Someone

very

Good and

Just,

Who has proved worthy of her trust, A Cat will sometimes condescend — The Dog

is

Everybody's friend!

Oliver Herford

,.., *s* Jtc/r