Poetry
- American 96
- Ancient, Classical & Medieval 41
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- Children's Poetry & Nursery rhymes
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- English, Irish, Scottish, Welsh 162
- General 483
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Children's Poetry & Nursery rhymes Books
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by:
Robert Ford
RHYMES OF THE NURSERY. Writing on the subject of nursery rhymes more than half a century ago, the late Dr. Robert Chambers expressed regret because, as he said, "Nothing had of late been revolutionised so much as the nursery." But harking back on the period of his own childhood, he was able to say, with a feeling of satisfaction, that the young mind was then "cradled amidst the simplicities...
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Unknown
Mr. Editor:—Your correspondent, N.B.S., has so decisively given a quietus to the question as to the birthplace of Cotton Mather, that there is no danger of its ever being revived again. But there is another question of equal importance to many, to the literary world in particular, which should in like manner be put to rest. Who was Mother Goose? and when were her melodies first given to the world?...
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My Baby's Feet Within my palm, like roseleaves, dainty, sweet,I fold with tenderest love two little feet—Two little feet, twin flow'rets come to bringTo mother's heart the first sweet breath of spring.Wearied with play, at last they lie at rest,One satin sole against its fair mate pressed.Dear little feet, fain would this hand 'ere shieldThy tender flesh from thorns which lie...
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Anonymous
This is the House that Jack built. This is the Malt, that lay in the House that Jack built. This is the Rat, that eat the Malt, that lay in the House that Jack built. This is the Cat, that killed the Rat, that eat the Malt, that lay in the House that Jack built. This is the Dog, that worried the Cat, that killed the Rat, that eat the Malt, that lay in the House that Jack built. This is the Cow with the...
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A BOOK FOR KIDS THE BAKER I'd like to be a baker, and come when morning breaks,Calling out, "Beeay-ko!" (that's the sound he makes)--Riding in a rattle-cart that jogs and jolts and shakes,Selling all the sweetest things a baker ever bakes;Currant-buns and brandy-snaps, pastry all in flakes;But I wouldn't be a baker if . . .I couldn't eat the cakes.Would you? THE DAWN...
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Edith Campbell
MASTER WILLIE. There was once a little boy called Willie. I never knew his other name, and as he lived far off behind the mountain, we cannot go to inquire. He had fair hair and blue eyes, and there was something in his face that, when you had looked at him, made you feel quite happy and rested, and think of all the things you meant to do by-and-by when you were wiser and stronger. He lived all alone...
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PETER PATTER told them to me,All the little rimes,Whispered them among the bushesHalf a hundred times. Peter lives upon a mountainPretty near the sun,Knows the bears and birds and rabbitsNearly every one;Has a home among the alders,Bed of cedar bark,Walks alone beneath the pine treesEven when it’s dark. Squirrels tell him everythingThat happens in the trees,Cricket in the gander-grassSings of all he...
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Ada M. Marzials
THE NORTH WIND DOTH BLOW "Different people have different opinions" The North Wind doth blow,And we shall have snow,And what will the robin do then? Poor thing!He will sit in a barn,And to keep himself warmHe will hide his head under his wing. Poor thing! Oh, how cold it was! The North Wind howled round the barn, whirling the snowflakes into a little heap inside the half-open door. Even beyond...
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Lucy Crane
POLLY PUT THE KETTLE ON [Listen] [PDF] [MusicXML] Polly, put the kettle on,Polly, put the kettle on,Polly, put the kettle on,We’ll all have tea. Sukey, take it off again,Sukey, take it off again,Sukey, take it off again,They’ve all gone away. [Listen] [PDF] [MusicXML] Hot Cross Buns!Hot Cross Buns!One a penny, two a penny,Hot Cross Buns!If you have no daughters,If you have no daughters,If you...
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Charles Robinson
BED IN SUMMERIn winter I get up at nightAnd dress by yellow candle-light.In summer, quite the other way,I have to go to bed by day.I have to go to bed and seeThe birds still hopping on the tree,Or hear the grown-up people's feetStill going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you,When all the sky is clear and blue,And I should like so much to play,To have to go to bed by day? It is...
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