Child Life: A Collection of Poems
John Greenleaf Whittier
Houghton, Mifflin, 1871 - Children's poetry - 263 pages
An anthology of poems by nineteenth-century authors from various countries about the experiences of childhood.
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Alfred Tennyson angel Babie Bell beautiful blessed blossoms blue Bob-o'-link bright bright eyes brown brown thrush chee cheek child comes cried Daisies dear Elizabeth Barrett Browning eyes face fair fairies fast father feet flowers gates Gilpin glad gray green guilders hair hand happy head hear heard heart heaven John Gilpin kiss laugh light little bird little Christel little Dandelion little Hiawatha little maid Little white Lily Lived look Lucy Larcom Mary Howitt meadow merry minute mix minutes bake mooly cow morning mother nest never night Nokomis o'er peep pipe Piper play pretty Quoth rose round sandpiper shine sing sits sleep smile snow soft song sorrow Spink stole stood sweet T. B. Aldrich tell thee There's things thou thought to-day To-whit tree violets wild William Wordsworth wind wings wonderful wood
Page 102 - 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 flake Upon me, as I travel, With many a silvery waterbreak 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 forever.
Page 244 - My head is twice as big as yours, They therefore needs must fit. "But let me scrape the dirt away That hangs upon your face; And stop and eat, for well you may Be in a hungry case." Said John, "It is my wedding-day, And all the world would stare, If wife should dine at Edmonton, And I should dine at Ware." So turning to his horse, he said, "I am in haste to dine; 'Twas for your pleasure you came here, You shall go back for mine.
Page 214 - Two of us in the church-yard lie, Beneath the church-yard tree." " You run about, my little maid, Your limbs they are alive; If two are in the church-yard laid, Then ye are only five. " " Their graves are green, they may be seen," The little maid replied ; " Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side.
Page 240 - John he cried ; But John he cried in vain: That trot became a gallop soon, In spite of curb and rein.
Page 101 - I COME from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally, And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.
Page 74 - White are his shoulders and white his crest. Hear him call in his merry note: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; Look, what a nice new coat is mine, Sure there was never a bird so fine. Chee, chee, chee. Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passing at home a patient life, Broods in the grass while her husband sings : Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; Brood, kind creature; you need not fear Thieves and robbers while I am here. Chee,...
Page 239 - Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!) Had two stone bottles found, To hold the liquor that she loved, And keep it safe and sound. Each bottle had a curling ear, Through which the belt he drew, And hung a bottle on each side To make his balance true. Then over all, that he might be Equipped from top to toe, His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, He manfully did throw.
Page 124 - Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, Cocking tails and pricking whiskers, Families by tens and dozens, Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives — Followed the Piper for their lives.
Page 250 - The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel, And the former called the latter 'Little Prig; Bun replied, 'You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together, To make up a year And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I'm not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I'll not deny you make A very pretty squirrel track; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you...
Page 243 - Inclined to tarry there ; For why? — his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong ; So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my song. Away went Gilpin out of breath, And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still.