Graded Poetry: Third Year

Excerpt

EDWARD LEAR

England, 1812-1888

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat.
They took some honey, and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the moon above,
And sang to a small guitar,
"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love!
What a beautiful Pussy you are,—
You are;
What a beautiful Pussy you are!"10

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!
How wonderful sweet you sing!
Oh let us be married,—too long we have tarried,—
But what shall we do for a ring?"
They sailed away for a year and a day
To the land where the Bong-tree grows,
And there in a wood, a piggy-wig stood
With a ring in the end of his nose,—
His nose;
With a ring in the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?" Said the piggy, "I will."10
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined upon mince and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon,
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,15
They danced by the light of the moon,—
The moon;
They danced by the light of the moon.

Ireland, 1828-1889

Ring ting! I wish I were a Primrose,
A bright yellow Primrose, blowing in the spring!
The stooping bough above me,
The wandering bee to love me,
The fern and moss to creep across,
And the Elm-tree for our king!

Nay,—stay! I wish I were an Elm-tree,
A great lofty Elm-tree, with green leaves gay!
The winds would set them dancing,
The sun and moonshine glance in,10
And birds would house among the boughs,
And sweetly sing.

Oh—no! I wish I were a Robin,—
A Robin, or a little Wren, everywhere to go,
Through forest, field, or garden,15
And ask no leave or pardon,
Till winter comes with icy thumbs
To ruffle up our wing!

Well,—tell! where should I fly to,
Where go sleep in the dark wood or dell?
Before the day was over,
Home must come the rover,
For mother's kiss,—sweeter this
Than any other thing.

WILLIAM BLAKE

England, 1757-1827

The Piper

Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,10
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he, laughing, said to me:

"Pipe a song about a lamb."
So I piped with merry cheer,
"Piper, pipe that song again."15
So I piped; he wept to hear.

"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe,
Sing thy songs of happy cheer."
So I sung the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.

"Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book that all may read."
So he vanish'd from my sight;
And I pluck'd a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,
And I stain'd the water clear,10
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.

England, 1830-1894

On the wind of January
Down flits the snow,
Traveling from the frozen North15
As cold as it can blow.
Poor robin redbreast,
Look where he comes;
Let him in to feel your fire,
And toss him of your crumbs.

On the wind in February
Snowflakes float still,
Half inclined to turn to rain,
Nipping, dripping, chill....