TYPES OF CHILDREN’S LITERATURE A COLLECTION OFTHE WORLD’S BEST LITERATUREFOR CHILDREN FOR USE IN COLLEGES, NORMAL SCHOOLSAND LIBRARY SCHOOLS COLLECTED AND EDITED BY WALTER BARNES, A.M. Application of the world’s knowledge to the world’s needs is the guiding aim of this publishing house, and it is in conformity to this aim that Types of Children’s Literature is published. There is need of helpful direction for parents and teachers who wish to place within reach of every child the beauty, wisdom, and knowledge stored up in the world’s best literature for children. The domain is so vast, so rich, and so varied that a single volume which presents specimens of all the different types for study and analysis by older readers and for reading by the children themselves, may hope to make easy and natural for children the entrance to the pleasant land of books PREFACE This collection of specimens of children’s literature has evolved itself naturally and, as it were, inevitably out of the editor’s experience in teaching classes in children’s literature in normal school and college, and it is published in the belief that other teachers of this subject find the same need of such a book that the editor has experienced. For it is obvious that if we are to conduct classes in children’s literature either for general culture or for specific training of teachers, we must have specimens of children’s literature readily accessible to the students. We must bring students to a knowledge and appreciation of any author, period, or type by having them study representative selections, and this principle applies as logically to courses in children’s literature as to courses in other kinds of literature. Types of Children’s Literature is intended to provide students of the subject with a single-volume anthology of prose and poetry illustrative of the different types, styles, interests, periods, authors, etc., of writings for children. There are, of course, many collections of specimens of children’s literature; but they are all made as reading books for children and, consequently, are unsatisfactory, in some important respect or other, as source books. Moreover, these collections are published in several volumes and contain much that is mediocre and trivial. As far as the editor has been able to discover, there is but a single one-volume collection, and that collection, having been compiled solely for juvenile readers, is impracticable as a text for college and normal school classes. In teaching classes in children’s literature the present editor has had to use, as the only possible text, such sets of literary readers as the Heart of Oak series or such miniature libraries as the ten-volume The Children’s Hour or the eight- volume Children’s Classics. This procedure has been both expensive and inconvenient for teacher and students, besides not supplying some of the material desirable in any symmetrical outline of study. In compiling the book the editor kept in mind several guiding aims. Foremost was the wish to include in the collection at least one selection–and that a masterpiece–of each type and kind of children’s literature in the English language. The different species of prose and poetry; the various kinds of stories, such as fables, myths, and fairy stories; the fundamental forms of discourse, such as narration, description, the sketch, the essay, the oration, letters– nearly all the molds, so to speak, into which the molten literary stream has flowed all these types are represented by the choicest specimens in the range of children’s literature. A careful inspection of the selections in this volume will reveal the rich variety of the material. Specimens are to be found of folk literature and modern literature, of the romantic, of the realistic, of the crude and naive, of the artistic and sophisticated, of the humorous and the pathetic. The editor has tried to find specimens presenting as many themes, as many interests, as many emotions as possible, characteristic specimens of the most important authors for children, of all the civilizations that have produced literatures which have become a part of the English-speaking child’s heritage. The collection contains literature for the little child and literature for the boy or girl in the early ‘teens, and it ranges from primitive times down to this present decade. Moreover, since a considerable part of the body of children’s literature is made up of original selections made over for children, a few masterpieces of translations, re-tellings, abridgments, and reproductions have been included. The editor hopes that he has allotted a proportionate and equitable amount of space and emphasis to each type, department, and section of the collection. He had it in mind, at least, to give as many pages over to poetry, for example, in proportion to prose, as many pages to fairy stories, for example, in proportion to myths, as would indicate roughly the average child’s interests. If this proportion is not due and just, as the editor sometimes fears, it is to be hoped that critics will realize the web of difficulties in which such a task as this is entangled. A word as to the classification and nomenclature. The editor realizes that this is neither original nor accurate. It is certainly not scientific, as the types overlap here and there, and the names are based partly on form and partly on content. But classification and class names were indispensable in a book of this nature, and it seemed a better policy to employ the classification and the names already firmly established in common use than to attempt to subject to a new system of scientific terms that which is by nature not amenable to scientific laws and scientific precision. The classification appears only in the Contents; it does not stand forth in the book itself. It should be said, further, that the order in which the different types are placed in the book is more or less arbitrary, having been determined largely by the succession in which children take them up from year to year, beginning with the simpler forms and more childish themes, and somewhat by the principle of similarity and contrast in the types themselves. Needless to say, teachers will change the order in which the species and specimens are studied in accordance with any well-defined plan of their own. A distinct service has been rendered, the editor hopes, by presenting the definitive and authoritative versions of all the selections given. This has meant a painstaking reading of every line in every selection and the collation with editions that are trustworthy. Every student of children’s literature knows that it has been almost impossible to find exact readings, and that most selections have been distorted and garbled to suit the purposes of editors. No changes from the originals have here been made except to abridge in a few instances where it seemed imperative in a book intended for reading and discussion in classes of both sexes. The editions used and the changes made are given in the Notes. The problems involved in selecting the best versions of certain stories and the best translations from other languages have been difficult. In general, the editor endeavored to choose the form which seemed to have the highest literary value. In cases where two translations seemed to possess equal merit, both are represented. Every specimen of literature in this collection is a complete unit or is at least a section easily detached–like an Uncle Remus or an Arabian Nights story–from its original setting. This principle precluded the inclusion of extracts from such children’s classics as Gulliver’s Travels, Robinson Crusoe, and Treasure Island. No survey of children’s literature is complete without an examination of such books as these; but they can easily be supplied in inexpensive editions and used as supplementary to this collection. It is evident that not every masterpiece of writing for children could be included in this volume; but it is believed that no selection has been included that is not a masterpiece. This belief is based primarily on the fact that most of the specimens have been chosen and approved by generation after generation of children, culled out from the light and worthless as by an unerring hand, through the most pragmatic of tests. The only distinct type of children’s literature not represented in this collection is the drama, which is omitted because the editor was not able to find a dramatic unit that would satisfy the ideal he had in mind: that it be dramatic, that it be literary, that it be brief, yet complete within itself, and that it be an original selection, not a dramatization of some classic. For a similar reason no story of American Indian life was put into the collection, though this exclusion does not mean the omission of a type of literature. A large number of Indian stories, both of Indian folklore and myth, and of adventures with Indians, were carefully read; but not one of them, in the editor’s opinion, came up to the standard of a masterpiece and was, at the same time, brief enough to be practicable for this book. Some undoubted masterpieces from literatures lying outside the recognized circle of the American child’s “culture”–such, for example, as the Japanese folk stories–also have been omitted. Other splendid specimens of juvenile literature, as stories from Kipling’s Jungle Books and essays from Burroughs, have been omitted because of copyright restrictions. No one realizes more clearly than does the editor of this collection that no single book can include all the material that a class studying children’s literature should have before it. There are dozens of children’s books, for example, that a class should know or know about. An appendix has therefore been placed at the end of this collection, which lists the reading indispensable to a student of children’s literature. These books should be in the school library, easily accessible to the students, and they should be considered as an integral part of the body of children’s literature. As a compendium of good literature for children it is hoped that this book may interest parents and teachers, quite independently of the fact that it was prepared for classes of young men and women studying children’s literature, and that it may be put into the hands of children. There remains but the pleasant duty of acknowledging the advice and encouragement received from many persons interested in this subject. To the publishing houses who have granted permission to use copyrighted material and to the Librarian of Congress thanks are due for courtesies extended. To Mr. David Dale Johnson of West Virginia University for collating; to Mr. Hunter Whiting for a great deal of copying and collating; and especially to Professor Franklin T. Baker of Teachers College, Columbia University, Professor James F. Hosic of the Chicago Normal College, and Mr. John Cotton Dana of the Newark, New Jersey, Free Public Library, for advice and criticism on the manuscript,–to all of these the editor hereby expresses his gratitude. W. B.FAIRMONT, WEST VIRGINIA CONTENTS BOOK ONE–POETRY NURSERY JINGLES CHARACTER SKETCHESLittle Miss MuffetDiddle, diddle, dumplingLet’s go to bedJack SpratThere was a little girl SCENES AND INCIDENTSJack and JillHickory, dickory, dockThere was an old womanPeter, Peter, pumpkin eaterLittle Jack Horner TALESOld Mother HubbardLittle Bo-peepThe Babes in the Woods NONSENSE AND HUMOROUS RHYMESOld Dan TuckerOld Man JohnWe’re all in the dumpsI had a little horse SATIRES AND TAUNTSGeorgy-porgyApril foolJohnny’s madCry, baby, cryTell-tale-tit TONGUE TWISTERSPeter PiperSwan swam over the sea COUNTING-OUT JINGLESIckity, pickityOne-ery, two-eryInty, mintyIntery, mintery GESTURE AND ACTION SONGSTrit-trotHippity-hopThis little mouseHere we go up, up, up RIDDLESA CherryA Fodder Field, a Hog, and a DogHensA ChurnAn EggA Star CATCHESThere, was a man who had no eyesI am a gold lockAs I was going to St. Ives CHARMS AND SUPERSTITIONSStar of lightMarble, marble, roll awayHonest and trueCome, butter, comeMatthew, Mark, Luke, and JohnMole on the neck WEATHER WISDOMRain before sevenEvening redWhen the fog goes up the hillWhen the bees all homeward fly AIDS TO MEMORYOne, two, three, fourNaught, oneIn fourteen hundred and ninety-twoThirty days hath September PROVERBSBirds of a featherHe that would thriveLittle strokesSee a pin and pick it upFor every evil under the sun PEDDLER’S CRIESPease porridge hotHot-cross buns SOME CHILDREN’S POETS WILLIAM BLAKEPiping down the valleys wildThe LambLaughing Song CHRISTINA ROSSETTIThe WindThe City Mouse and the Garden Mouse LullabyA FlintThe Sisters ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSONThe WindWindy NightsThe Whole Duty of ChildrenMy Bed Is a BoatThe Land of CounterpaneThe Land of Storybooks LUCY LARCOMIf I Were a SunbeamThe RivuletThe Brown Thrush ANN AND JANE TAYLORMeddlesome MattyThe VioletThe StarThe Way to be Happy ISAAC WATTSAgainst Idleness and MischiefA Morning SongA Cradle Hymn LEWIS CARROLLJabberwockyYou Are Old, Father WilliamThe Walrus and the Carpenter EDWARD LEARThere was an Old Man of the WestThere was an Old Man with a beardThere was an Old Person of DeanThere was a Young Lady whose chinThere is a Young Lady whose noseThe Owl and the Pussy-CatThe Jumblies BALLADS POPULARBonny Barbara AllanSir Patrick SpenceRobin Hood and Allin a DaleKinmont Willie MODERNThe Wreck of the Hesperus, Longfellow La Belle Dame sans Merci, _Keats_Lord Ullin’s Daughter, _Campbell_Young Lochinvar, _Scott_How They Brought the Good News, Browning The Revenge, Tennyson LYRICS OUR COUNTRYAmerica, _Smith_My Native Land, _Scott_Columbus, _Miller_Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, Hemans Concord Hymn, _Emerson_Old Ironsides, _Holmes_O Captain! My Captain!, Whitman LOVE LYRICSTo Lucasta, _Lovelace_She Walks in Beauty, _Byron_A Red, Red Rose, Burns POEMS OF NATUREThe Greenwood Tree, _Shakespeare_A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea, Cunningham I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud, Wordsworth The Rhodora, _Emerson_To the Fringed Genlian, _Bryant_The Eagle, _Tennyson_On the Grasshopper and Cricket, Keats LESSONS FROM NATURETo a Waterfowl, _Bryant_The Chambered Nautilus, _Holmes_The Bugle Song, Tennyson SONGS OF LIFEThe Noble Nature, _Jonson_The Character of a Happy Life, Wotton Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth, Clough For A’ That and A’ That, _Burns_Invictus, _Henley_Opportunity, _Sill_A Psalm of Life, Longfellow BOOK TWO PROSE STORIES FABLESThe Dog and the Shadow, _Æsop_The Fox and the Grapes, _Æsop_The Hare and the Tortoise, _Æsop_The Shepherd’s Boy, _Æsop_The Husbandman and the Stork, Æsop The Wind and the Sun, _Æsop_The Tortoise and the Geese, Bidpai The Partridge and the Crow, _Bidpai_The Fox and the Grapes, La Fontaine The Wolf and the Stork, La Fontaine FAIRY STORIES AND NURSERY TALES TRADITIONAL THE ACCUMULATIVE TALEThe Old Woman and Her Pig, Jacobs THE ANIMAL STORYThe Three Little Pigs, Jacobs THE NOODLE STORYHans in Luck, Grimm THE HUMBLE HERO STORYThe Valiant Little Tailor, _Grimm_Cinderella, _Perrault_Whittington and His Cat, Old Chapbook THE SYMBOLISTIC STORYThe Ugly Duckling, _Andersen_The Flax, Andersen THE STORY OF HORRORBlue Beard, Perrault THE GIANT STORYJack and the Beanstalk, Jacobs MISCELLANEOUS STORIESThe Elves, _Grimm_Te Frog-Prince, _Grimm_The Quern at the Bottom of the Sea, Asbjørnsen THE NEGRO FOLK TALEBrother Rabbit and Brother Bull-Frog, Harris MODERNBrownie and the Cook, _Craik_The King of the Golden River, Ruskin THE ORIENTAL WONDER STORYThe Story of Aladdin, Arabian Nights MYTHS AND LEGENDS CLASSICThe Gorgon’s Head, _Hawthorne_Theseus, Kingsley GERMANICThor Goes a-Fishing, _Mabie_Baldur, Keary-Morss THE HERO STORYSir William Wallace, Scott THE REPRODUCTIONThe Tempest, Shakespeare-Lamb DIDACTIC STORIESThe Purple Jar, _Edgeworth_Difference and Agreement, Aiken and Barbauld Eyes and No Eyes, Aiken and Barbauld ANIMAL SKETCHES AND STORIESRab and His Friends, _Brown_The Busy Blue Jay, _Miller_A Cry in the Night, Long SELECTIONS FROM THE BIBLEThe Story of JosephThe Story of SamsonDavid’s Psalms: First, Nineteenth, Twenty-third Christ’s Sermon on the MountPaul’s Discourse on Charity OTHER PROSE FORMS LETTERSLewis Carroll to Miss StandenThomas Hood to Miss ElliotCharles Dickens to Master Hughes ESSAYSTraits of Indian Character, Irving Of Studies, _Bacon_The American Boy, Roosevelt ORATIONSGive Me Liberty or Give Me Death, Henry Supposed Speech of John Adams, Webster Gettysburg Address, Lincoln APPENDIX NOTES INDEX TO AUTHORS, TITLES, AND THE FIRST LINES OF POEMS TYPES OF CHILDREN’S LITERATURE NURSERY JINGLES Little Miss MuffetSat on a tuffet, Eating of curds and whey;Along came a spiderAnd sat down beside her, Which frightened Miss Muffet away. * * * * * Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John Went to bed with his stockings on;One shoe off, the other shoe on,Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John. * * * * * “Let’s go to bed,”Says Sleepy-head; “Let’s stay awhile,” says Slow;“Put on the pot,”Says Greedy-sot, “We’ll sup before we go.” * * * * * Jack Sprat could eat no fat, His wife could eat no lean:And so betwixt them both, you see, They licked the platter clean. * * * * * There was a little girl,And she had a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead; When she was good,She was very, very good; But when she was bad–she was horrid. [Footnote: Attributed to Longfellow.] * * * * * Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch a pail of water;Jack fell down and broke his crown, And Jill came tumbling after. * * * * * Hickory, dickory, dock,The mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one, And down he run,Hickory, dickory, dock * * * * * There was an old woman who lived in a shoe; She had so many children she didn’t know what to do. She gave them some broth without any bread, And whipped them all soundly and put them to bed. * * * * * Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,Had a wife and couldn’t keep her.He put her in a pumpkin shell,And there he kept her very well. * * * * * Little Jack Horner Sat in a corner,Eating a Christmas pie: He put in his thumb And pulled out a plumAnd said, “What a good boy am I!” * * * * * Old Mother HubbardWent to the cupboard To get her poor dog a bone;But when she got there,The cupboard was bare, And so the poor dog had none. She went to the baker’s To buy him some bread;And when she came back, The poor dog was dead. She went to the joiner’s To buy him a coffin;And when she came back, The doggy was laughin’. She went to the butcher’s To buy him some tripe;And when she came back, He was smoking his pipe. She went to the hatter’s To buy him a hat;And when she came back, He was feeding the cat. She went to the barber’s To buy him a wig;And when she came back, He was dancing a jig. She went to the tailor’s To buy him a coat;And when she came back, He was riding a goat. She went to the cobbler’s To buy him some shoes;And when she came back, He was reading the news. * * * * * Little Bo-peepShe lost her sheep, And couldn’t tell where to find them. “Let them aloneAnd they’ll come home, Wagging their tails behind them.” Little Bo-peepFell fast asleep And dreamt she heard them bleating, But when she awoke,She found it a joke, For still they all were fleeting. Then up she tookHer little crook, Determined for to find them. She found them indeed,But it made her heart bleed,– For they’d left their tails behind them. * * * * * My dear, do you knowA long time ago Two poor little children,Whose names I don’t know,Were taken away on a bright summer day And left in the woods, as I’ve heard people say. And when it was night,How sad was their plight! The sun it went downAnd the stars hid their light.They sobbed and they sighed and sadly they cried, Till the poor little things at last lay down and died. And when they were dead,The robins so red Brought beech and oak leavesAnd over them spread.And all the day long, the branches among, They sang to them softly, and this was their song: “Poor babes in the woods, poor babes in the woods, Oh, who will come find the poor babes in the woods?” * * * * * Old Dan Tucker was a fine old man;He washed his face in a frying pan, He combed his hair with a wagon wheel,And died with the toothache in his heel. * * * * * Old Man John sitting down by the spring; He’s a Jew, he’s a ring,He’s a many pretty thing.He’s a hammer with nine nails,He’s a cat with nine tails.Whip jack, spur Tom,Blow the bellows for Old Man John. * * * * * We’re all in the dumps,For diamonds are trumps;The kittens are gone to St. Paul’s; The babies are bit,The moon’s in a fit,And the houses are built without walls. * * * * * I had a little horse, his name was Dapple Gray; His legs were made of cornstalks, his body made of hay. I saddled him and bridled him and rode him off to town; Up came a puff of wind, and blew him up and down. The saddle flew off, and I let go,–Now didn’t my horse make a pretty little show? * * * * * Georgy-porgy, pudding and pie,Kissed the girls and made them cry. When the boys came out to play,Georgy-porgy ran away. * * * * * April fool, go to school,Sit on a two-legged stool.Too wise you are, too wise you be;You are not too wise for me. * * * * * Johnny’s mad, and I am glad, And I know what will please him:A bottle of wine to make him shine, And Mary Jones to squeeze him. * * * * * Cry, baby, cry,Stick your finger in your eyeAnd tell your mother ’twasn’t I. * * * * * Tell-tale-tit,Your tongue shall be slit,And all the dogs about the townShall have a little bit. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked. If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, Where is the peck of peppers Peter Piper picked? * * * * * Swan swam over the sea, Swim, swan, swim;Swan swam back again, Well swum, swan. * * * * * Ickity, pickity, ally gadaw,Dicks, do, ally gamaw,Okus, pokus, pelly gaw,Franz. * * * * * One-ery, two-ery, three-ery, thum,Backsley, Billy, Nicholas, Bum,One-a-tirry, Dick and Sirry,Pot ban, riddle man,Link, Pink, Sink. * * * * * Inly, minly, dibbity fig,Delia, Dolia, dominig,Otcha, potcha, dominotcha,Ella Bella boo, Out goes you. * * * * * Intery, mintery, cutery corn,Apple seed and apple thorn,Wire, brier, limber lock,Three geese in a flock;Along came Tod,With his long rod,And scared them all to Migly-wod.One flew east, one flew west,One flew over the cuckoo’s nest.–Make your way home, Jack. * * * * * Trit-trot, trit-trot, To buy a penny cake;Home again, home again, I met a black-snake.Pick up a stoneAnd breaky backy-bone Trit-trot, trit-trotAll the way home. * * * * * Hippity–hop to the barber shop, To buy a stick of candy;One for you, and one for me, And one for Brother Andy. * * * * * This little mouse got caught in a trap, And this little mouse she heard it snap, This little mouse did loudly squeak out, And this little mouse did run all about, This little mouse said, “Do not bewailAnd let us take hold and pull him out by the tail.” [Footnote: Recited on the baby’s fingers or toes.] * * * * * Here we go up, up, up, Here we go down, down, down-y;Here we go up, and here we go down, And here we go round, round, round-y. * * * * * As I went through the garden gap,Whom should I meet but Dick Red-cap,– A stick in his hand,A stone in his throat,–If you’ll tell me this riddle,I’ll give you a gold fiddle. (A cherry) * * * * * One day I went to my whirly-whicker-whacker, (Fodder field) I met bow-backer, (A hog)I called Tom-tacker (A dog)To drive bow-backerOut of my whirly-whicker-whacker. * * * * * One day I went to Body-tot,I met three ladies in a trot,With green heads and yellow toes,– If you don’t tell me this riddle I’ll burn your nose. (Hens) * * * * * Big at the bottom and little at the top, A thing in the middle goes flippety-flop. (A churn) * * * * * Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;All the king’s horses and all the king’s men Couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again. (An egg) * * * * * I have a little sister, she’s called Peep-peep; She wades the waters deep, deep, deep;She climbs the mountains high, high, high,– Poor little thing, she has but one eye. (A star) * * * * * There was a man who had no eyes,He went abroad to view the skies;He saw a tree with apples on it,He took no apples off, yet left no apples on it. (The man had one eye, and the tree had two apples on it.) * * * * * (The following catch depends upon the second child repeating the exact words of the first, except that he changes “lock” to “key.”)
- I am a gold lock.2. I am a gold key.1. I am a silver lock,2. I am a silver key.1. I am a brass lock,2. I am a brass key.1. I am a monk lock.2. I am a monk-key.
As I was going to St. Ives,I met a man with seven wives;Each wife had seven sacks,Each sack had seven cats,Each sack had seven kits,–Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,How many were going to St. Ives? * * * * * Star of light, so bright, so bright,‘Tis the first star I’ve seen tonight; I wish I may, I wish I mightHave the wish I wish tonight. * * * * * Marble, marble, roll away, Go find your brother;Marble, marble, come back home, Bring me another. [Footnote: If you have lost a marble, take another marble and roll it toward the place you lost the first one, repeating this charm. You will find the lost one near the second marble.] * * * * * Honest and true, black and blue,You may take your knife and cut me in two. (An oath) * * * * * Come, butter, come,Come, butter, come;Johnny stands at the gate,Waiting for a butter cake,–Come, butter, come. * * * * * Matthew, Mark, Luke, and JohnGuard the bed that I lie on;One to watch and one to pray,And two to bear my soul away. * * * * * Mole on the neck,Money by the peck. * * * * * Rain before seven,Quit before eleven. * * * * * Evening red and morning graySets the traveler on his way;Evening gray and morning red,Brings down rain upon his head. * * * * * When the fog goes up the hill,Then the rain comes down by the mill. * * * * * When the bees all homeward fly,Flowers will not long be dry. * * * * * 1, 2, 3, 4,Mary at the cottage door;5, 6, 7, 8,Eating cherries off a plate. * * * * * Naught, one,Work is done;Two, three,Jubilee;Four, five,Ducks are alive;Six, seven,Stars shine up in heaven;Eight, nine,Queen, Queen Caroline,Wash your face in turpentine,Monkey-shine, monkey-shine,Queen, Queen Caroline. * * * * * In fourteen hundred and ninety-twoColumbus sailed the ocean blue. * * * * * Thirty days hath September,April, June, and November;All the rest have thirty-one,Excepting February alone,Which has twenty-eight in line,Till leap-year gives it twenty-nine. * * * * * Birds of a featherFlock together. * * * * * He that would thriveMust rise at five;He that has thrivenMay rise at seven. * * * * * Little strokesFell great oaks. * * * * * See a pin and pick it up,All the day you’ll have good luck.See a pin and let it lay,You’ll have bad luck all the day. * * * * * For every evil under the sun,There is a remedy, or there is none; If there be one, try and find it,If there be none, never mind it. * * * * * Pease porridge hot, Pease porridge cold,Pease porridge in the pot, Nine days old. Some like it hot, Some like it cold,Some like it in the pot, Nine days old. * * * * * Hot-cross buns, Hot-cross buns,One a penny, two a penny, Hot-cross buns. Hot-cross buns, Hot-cross buns,If you have no daughters, Give them to your sons. SOME CHILDREN’S POETS William Blake PIPING DOWN THE VALLEYS WILD Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee,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:” So I piped: he wept to hear. “Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe, Sing thy songs of happy cheer!”So I sang 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 vanished from my sight; And I plucked a hollow reed, And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear,And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear. THE LAMB Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee,Gave thee life and bade thee feedBy the stream and o’er the mead;Gave thee clothing of delight,Softest clothing, woolly, bright,Gave thee such a tender voice,Making all the vales rejoice? Little lamb, who made thee? Dost thou know who made thee? Little lamb, I’ll tell thee; Little lamb, I’ll tell thee.He is called by thy name,For He calls himself a Lamb.He is meek, and He is mild;He became a little child.I a child, and thou a lamb,We are called by His name. Little lamb, God bless thee! Little lamb, God bless thee! LAUGHING SONG When the green wood laughs with the voice of joy, And the dimpling stream runs laughing by; When the air does laugh with our merry wit, And the green hill laughs with the noise of it; When the meadows laugh with lively green, And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene; When Mary, and Susan, and EmilyWith their sweet round mouths sing, “Ha ha he!” When the painted birds laugh in the shade, When our table with cherries and nuts is spread; Come live, and be merry, and join with me, To sing the sweet chorus of “Ha ha he!” CHRISTINA ROSSETTI THE WIND Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor IBut when the leaves hang trembling The wind is passing by. Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor IBut when the trees bow down their heads The wind is passing by. THE CITY MOUSE AND THE GARDEN MOUSE The city mouse lives in a house;– The garden mouse lives in a bower, He’s friendly with the frogs and toads, And sees the pretty plants in flower. The city mouse eats bread and cheese;– The garden mouse eats what he can; We will not grudge him seeds and stalks, Poor little timid furry man. LULLABY Lullaby, oh, lullaby!Flowers are closed and lambs are sleeping; Lullaby, oh, lullaby!Stars are up, the moon is peeping; Lullaby, oh, lullaby!While the birds are silence keeping, Lullaby, oh, lullaby!Sleep, my baby, fall a-sleeping, Lullaby, oh, lullaby! THE SISTERS Sing me a song– What shall I sing?–Three merry sisters Dancing in a ring,Light and fleet upon their feet As birds upon the wing. Tell me a tale– What shall I tell?–Two mournful sisters, And a tolling knell,Tolling ding and tolling dong, Ding dong bell. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE WIND I saw you toss the kites on highAnd blow the birds about the sky;And all around I heard you pass,Like ladies’ skirts across the grass– O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song! I saw the different things you did,But always you yourself you hid.I felt you push, I heard you call,I could not see yourself at all– O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song! O you that are so strong and cold!O blower, are you young or old?Are you a beast of field and tree,Or just a stronger child than me? O wind, a-blowing all day long, O wind, that sings so loud a song! WINDY NIGHTS Whenever the moon and stars are set, Whenever the wind is high,All night long in the dark and wet, A man goes riding by.Late in the night when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about? Whenever the trees are crying aloud, And ships are tossed at sea,By, on the highway, low and loud, By at the gallop goes he;By at the gallop he goes, and thenBy he comes back at the gallop again. THE WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN A child should always say what’s true And speak when he is spoken to,And behave mannerly at table;At least as far as he is able. MY BED IS A BOAT My bed is like a little boat; Nurse helps me in when I embark;She girds me in my sailor’s coat And starts me in the dark. At night, I go on board and say Good night to all my friends on shore; I shut my eyes and sail away, And see and hear no more. And sometimes things to bed I take, As prudent sailors have to do;Perhaps a slice of wedding cake, Perhaps a toy or two. All night across the dark we steer; But when the day returns at last,Safe in my room, beside the pier, I find my vessel fast. THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE When I was sick and lay abed,I had two pillows at my head,And all my toys beside me layTo keep me happy all the day. And sometimes for an hour or soI watched my leaden soldiers go,With different uniforms and drills, Among the bedclothes, through the hills; And sometimes sent my ships in fleets All up and down among the sheets;Or brought my trees and houses out, And planted cities all about. I was the giant great and stillThat sits upon the pillow hill,And sees before him, dale and plain, The pleasant land of counterpane. THE LAND OF STORYBOOKS At evening when the lamp is lit,Around the fire my parents sit;They sit at home and talk and sing, And do not play at anything. Now, with my little gun, I crawlAll in the dark along the wall,And follow round the forest trackAway behind the sofa back. There, in the night, where none can spy, All in my hunter’s camp I lie,And play at books that I have readTill it is time to go to bed. These are the hills, these are the woods, These are my starry solitudes;And there the river by whose brinkThe roaring lions come to drink. I see the others far awayAs if in firelit camp they lay,And I, like to an Indian scout,Around their party prowled about. So, when my nurse comes in for me,Home I return across the sea,And go to bed with backward looksAt my dear Land of Storybooks. LUCY LARCOM IF I WERE A SUNBEAM “If I were a sunbeam, I know what I’d do;I would seek white lilies, Rainy woodlands through.I would steal among them, Softest light I’d shed,Until every lily Raised its drooping head. “If I were a sunbeam, I know where I’d go;Into lowliest hovels, Dark with want and woe:Till sad hearts looked upward, I would shine and shine;Then they’d think of heaven, Their sweet home and mine.” Art thou not a sunbeam, Child, whose life is gladWith an inner radiance Sunshine never had?O, as God hath blessed thee, Scatter rays divine!For there is no sunbeam But must die or shine. THE RIVULET Run, little rivulet, run! Summer is fairly begun.Bear to the meadow the hymn of the pines, And the echo that rings where the waterfall shines; Run, little rivulet, run! Run, little rivulet, run! Sing to the fields of the sunThat wavers in emerald, shimmers in gold, Where you glide from your rocky ravine, crystal cold; Run, little rivulet, run! Run, little rivulet, run! Sing of the flowers, every one,–Of the delicate harebell and violet blue; Of the red mountain rosebud, all dripping with dew; Run, little rivulet, run! Run, little rivulet, run! Carry the perfume you wonFrom the lily, that woke when the morning was gray, To the white waiting moonbeam adrift on the bay; Run, little rivulet, run! Run, little rivulet, run! Stay not till summer is done!Carry the city the mountain birds’ glee; Carry the joy of the hills to the sea; Run, little rivulet, run! THE BROWN THRUSH There’s a merry brown thrush sitting up in the tree. He’s singing to me! He’s singing to me!And what does he say, little girl, little boy? “Oh, the world’s running over with joy! Don’t you hear? Don’t you see? Hush! Look! In my tree I’m as happy as happy can be!” And the brown thrush keeps singing, “A nest do you see, And five eggs, hid by me in the juniper tree? Don’t meddle! Don’t touch! little girl, little boy, Or the world will lose some of its joy! Now I’m glad! now I’m free! And I always shall be, If you never bring sorrow to me.” So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree, To you and to me, to you and to me;And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy, “Oh, the world’s running over with joy! But long it won’t be, Don’t you know? don’t you see? Unless we are as good as can be!” ANN AND JANE TAYLOR MEDDLESOME MATTY One ugly trick has often spoiled The sweetest and the best:Matilda, though a pleasant child, One grievous fault possessed,Which, like a cloud before the skies, Hid all her better qualities. Sometimes she’d lift the teapot lid To peep at what was in it;Or tilt the kettle, if you did But turn your back a minute.In vain you told her not to touch,Her trick of meddling grew so much. Her grandmamma went out one day And by mistake she laidHer spectacles and snuffbox gay Too near the little maid.“Ah! well,” thought she, “I’ll try them on As soon as grandmamma is gone.” Forthwith she placed upon her nose The glasses large and wide;And looking round, as I suppose, The snuffbox too she spied:“Oh! what a pretty box is that;I’ll open it,” said little Matt. “I know that grandmamma would say, ‘Don’t meddle with it, dear’;But then, she’s far enough away, And no one else is near.Besides, what can there be amissIn opening such a box as this?” So thumb and finger went to work To move the stubborn lid,And presently a mighty jerk The mighty mischief did;For all at once, ah! woeful case.The snuff came puffing in her face. Poor eyes and nose and mouth, beside, A dismal sight presented;In vain, as bitterly she cried, Her folly she repented;In vain she ran about for ease,She could do nothing now but sneeze. She dashed the spectacles away To wipe her tingling eyes,And as in twenty bits they lay, Her grandmamma she spies.“Heyday! and what’s the matter now?” Says grandmamma with lifted brow. Matilda, smarting with the pain, And tingling still, and sore,Made many a promise to refrain From meddling evermore.And ’tis a fact, as I have heard,She ever since has kept her word. THE VIOLET Down in a green and shady bed A modest violet grew,Its stalk was bent, it hung its head, As if to hide from view. And yet it was a lovely flower, Its color bright and fair;It might have graced a rosy bower Instead of hiding there. Yet there it was content to bloom, In modest tints arrayed;And there diffused a sweet perfume Within the silent shade.– Then let me to the valley go This pretty flower to see,That I may also learn to grow In sweet humility. THE STAR Twinkle, twinkle, little star,How I wonder what you are!Up above the world so high,Like a diamond in the sky. When the blazing sun is gone,When he nothing shines upon,Then you show your little light,Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. Then the traveler in the dark,Thanks you for your tiny spark!He could not see which way to go,If you did not twinkle so. In the dark blue sky you keep,And often through my curtains peep, For you never shut your eyeTill the sun is in the sky. As your bright and tiny sparkLights the traveler in the dark,Though I know not what you are,Twinkle, twinkle, little star. THE WAY TO BE HAPPY How pleasant it is at the end of the day, No follies to have to repent, But reflect on the past and be able to say, My time has been properly spent! When I’ve done all my business with patience and care, And been good, and obliging, and kind,I lie on my pillow and sleep away there, With a happy and peaceable mind. Instead of all this, if it must be confest, That I careless and idle have been,I lie down as usual, and go to my rest, But feel discontented within. Then as I dislike all the trouble I’ve had, In future I’ll try to prevent it,For I never am naughty without being sad, Or good–without being contented. ISAAC WATTS AGAINST IDLENESS AND MISCHIEF How doth the little busy bee Improve each shining hour,And gather honey all the day From every opening flower! How skillfully she builds her cell! How neat she spreads her wax!And labors hard to store it well With the sweet food she makes. In works of labor or of skill, I would be busy too;For Satan finds some mischief still For idle hands to do. In books, or work, or healthful play, Let my first years be past,That I may give for every day Some good account at last. A MORNING SONG My God, who makes the sun to know His proper hour to rise,And to give light to all below, Doth send him round the skies. When from the chambers of the east His morning race begins,He never tires, nor stops to rest, But round the world he shines. So, like the sun, would I fulfill The business of the day:Begin my work betimes, and still March on my heavenly way. Give me, O Lord, thy early grace, Nor let my soul complainThat the young morning of my days Has all been spent in vain. A CRADLE HYMN Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber! Holy angels guard thybed!Heavenly blessings without number Gently falling on thy head. Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide;All without thy care or payment, All thy wants are well supplied. How much better thou’rt attended Than the Son of God could be,When from heaven He descended, And became a child like thee! Soft and easy is thy cradle; Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay,When His birthplace was a stable, And His softest bed was hay. Lo, He slumbers in His manger, Where the horned oxen fed;Peace, my darling, here’s no danger, Here’s no ox a-near thy bed. Mayst thou live to know and fear Him, Trust and love Him all thy days;Then go dwell forever near Him, See His face, and sing His praise! LEWIS CARROLL JABBERWOCKY ‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimbel in the wabe:All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. “Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!” He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought– So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! And through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. “And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy!O Frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!” He chortled in his joy. ‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimbel in the wabe:All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. YOU ARE OLD, FATHER WILLIAM “You are old, father William,” the young man said “And your hair has become very white;And yet you incessantly stand on your head– Do you think, at your age, it is right?” “In my youth,” father William replied to his son, “I feared it might injure the brain;But now that I’m perfectly sure I have none, Why, I do it again and again.” “You are old,” said the youth, “as I mentioned before, And have grown most uncommonly fat;Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door– Pray, what is the reason of that?” “In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his gray locks, “I kept all my limbs very suppleBy the use of this ointment–one shilling the box– Allow me to sell you a couple?” “You are old,” said the youth, “and your jaws are too weak For anything tougher than suet;Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak– Pray, how did you manage to do it?” “In my youth,” said his father, “I took to the law, And argued each case with my wife;And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw Has lasted the rest of my life.” “You are old,” said the youth; “one would hardly suppose That your eye was as steady as ever;Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose– What made you so awfully clever?” “I have answered three questions, and that is enough,” Said his father; “don’t give yourself airs! Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff? Be off, or I’ll kick you downstairs!” THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might;He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright–And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night. The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sunHad got no business to be there After the day was done–“It’s very rude of him,” she said, “To come and spoil the fun!” The sea was wet as wet could be, The sands were dry as dry.You could not see a cloud, because No cloud was in the sky;No birds were flying overhead– There were no birds to fly. The Walrus and the Carpenter Were walking close at hand;They wept like anything to see Such quantities of sand–“If this were only cleared away,” They said, “it would be grand!” “If seven maids with seven mops Swept it for half a year,Do you suppose,” the Walrus said, “That they could get it clear?”“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter, And shed a bitter tear. “O Oysters, come and walk with us!” The Walrus did beseech.“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk, Along the briny beach;We cannot do with more than four, To give a hand to each.” The eldest Oyster looked at him, But never a word he said;The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head–Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the Oyster bed. But four young Oysters hurried up, All eager for the treat;Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat–And this was odd, because, you know, They hadn’t any feet. Four other Oysters followed them, And yet another four;And thick and fast they came at last, And more, and more, and more–All hopping through the frothy waves, And scrambling to the shore. The Walrus and the Carpenter Walked on a mile or so,And then they rested on a rock Conveniently low–And all the little Oysters stood And waited in a row. “The time has come,” the Walrus said, “To talk of many things:Of shoes–and ships–and sealing wax– Of cabbages–and kings–And why the sea is boiling hot– And whether pigs have wings.” “But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried, “Before we have our chat;For some of us are out of breath, And all of us are fat!”“No hurry!” said the Carpenter. They thanked him much for that. “A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said, “Is what we chiefly need;Pepper and vinegar besides Are very good indeed–Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear, We can begin to feed.” “But not on us!” the Oysters cried, Turning a little blue.“After such kindness, that would be A dismal thing to do!”“The night is fine!” the Walrus said. “Do you admire the view? “It was so kind of you to come! And you are very nice!”The Carpenter said nothing but, “Cut us another slice.I wish you were not quite so deaf– I’ve had to ask you twice!” “It seems a shame,” the Walrus said. “To play them such a trick,After we’ve brought them out so far, And made them trot so quick!”The Carpenter said nothing but, “The butter’s spread too thick!” “I weep for you,” the Walrus said; “I deeply sympathize.”
