Famous Children Poems - Page 3

(sing to the tune of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game")

Let me out of the classroom.
Let me out of the school.
I’m not so good at geography.
I would rather be watching T.V.

It’s still twenty minutes till recess.
Lunch is hours away.
Won’t you please, please, please get me out
of the class today?

Someone’s here with a note now.
Teacher’s calling my name.
He says my mother is right outside.
I should go and she’ll give me a ride

to my yearly dentist appointment.
I forgot it’s today!
Teacher please, please, please help me out.
Won’t you let me stay?

“Let Me Out of the Classroom” copyright © 2007 Kenn Nesbitt. All Rights Reserved. Published in Revenge of the Lunch Ladies. Reprinted by permission of the author. www.poetry4kids.com

Up into the cherry tree
Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked abroad on foreign lands.

I saw the next door garden lie,
Adorned with flowers, before my eye,
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.

I saw the dimpling river pass
And be the sky's blue looking-glass;
The dusty roads go up and down
With people tramping in to town.

If I could find a higher tree,
Farther and farther I should see,
To where the grown-up river slips
Into the sea among the ships;

To where the roads on either hand
Lead onward into fairy land,
Where all the children dine at five,
And all the playthings come alive.

O bird that darts now low, now high,
You know the streets across the sky;
You know where leafy lanes lie deep
And quiet nooks to go to sleep;
You know the place to build a nest,
What twigs to use, what shape is best;
I wonder how you found things out
That scholars never know about;
I've studied large books through and through,
But never can be wise as you!

Between the bookcase and the wall
'Is raised a castle, gray and tall,
The desk top is a wooden moat,
The rocking chair's a pirate boat,—
My little boy, turned six to-day,
Has fierce adventures in his play.

My little maid goes venturing, too,
O bold grim robbers—what a crew!
She helps to take the gold—but then
She hurries back to home again
For she must set the things for tea
With beautiful house-wifery.

The table's set upon the floor,
    The pirate marches in,
And eats and eats and asks for more
    With true piratic din.

O ye who never knew the life
Of dragon-hunting, golden strife
Of pirates on a windy sea
Returning meekly home for tea;
Who never heard the black knight's call—
I fear ye have not lived at all!

I spot the hills
With yellow balls in autumn.
I light the prairie cornfields
Orange and tawny gold clusters
And I am called pumpkins.
On the last of October
When dusk is fallen
Children join hands
And circle round me
Singing ghost songs
And love to the harvest moon;
I am a jack-o’-lantern
With terrible teeth
And the children know
I am fooling.

I love these days when autumn leaves
    Are falling everywhere around,
And I can tread among the sheaves,
    And hear the crispy, crunchy sound.

I leave my dolly safe at home,
    And climb the old gray orchard wall;
The squirrels spy me where I roam,
    And scamper to the treetops tall.

And O, it is a pleasant thing
    To listen for the happy sound,
Each little leaflet tries to sing,
    That rustles softly to the ground.

And so I spend the afternoon,
    And watch the leaves go floating by
Till Mother comes to say that soon
    The dark will come into the sky.

I know when stars are overhead,
    The leaves all gather in a heap,
And while I lie quite warm in bed,
    They snuggle close and go to sleep.

At evening when I go to bed
I see the stars shine overhead;
They are the little daisies white
That dot the meadow of the Night.

And often while I'm dreaming so,
Across the sky the Moon will go;
It is a lady, sweet and fair,
Who comes to gather daisies there.

For, when at morning I arise,
There's not a star left in the skies;
She's picked them all and dropped them down
Into the meadows of the town.

The people outside on the sidewalk
can’t seem to remain on the ground.
They’re jumping and hopping and springing,
and generally bouncing around.

I’ve never seen anything like it.
It’s such an unusual scene,
as if they have springs in their sneakers,
or bounce on a big trampoline.

I think I know what may have happened
that caused this chaotic event:
Last week they replaced our old sidewalk
with one made of rubber cement!

“Springy Sidewalk” copyright © 2021 Kenn Nesbitt. All Rights Reserved. Published in The Aliens Have Landed at Our School. Reprinted by permission of the author. www.poetry4kids.com

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.

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 set,
And the grass with dew is wet,
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 where 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 eye
Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

Tiny little snowflakes,
    In the air so high,
Are you little angels,
    Floating in the sky?
Robed so white and spotless,
    Flying like a dove,
Are you little creatures,
    From the world above?

Whirling on the sidewalk,
    Dancing in the street,
Kissing all the faces
    Of the children sweet,
Loading all the housetops,
    Powdering all the trees,—
Cunning little snowflakes,
    Little busy bees!

It was six men of Indostan,
    To learning much inclined,
Who went to see the elephant,
    (Though all of them were blind,)
That each by observation
    Might satisfy his mind.

The first approached the elephant,
    And, happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
    At once began to bawl:
"God bless me! but the elephant
    Is very like a wall!"

The second, feeling of the tusk,
    Cried: "Ha! what have we here,
So very round, and smooth, and sharp?
    To me 't is very clear,
This wonder of an elephant
    Is very like a spear!"

The third approached the animal,
    And, happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
    Thus boldly up he spake:
"I see," quoth he, "the elephant
    Is very like a snake!"

The fourth reached out his eager hand,
    And fell about the knee:
"What most this wondrous beast is like,
    Is very plain," quoth he;
"'T is clear enough the elephant
    Is very like a tree!"

The fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
    Said: "E'en the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most:
    Deny the fact who can,
This marvel of an elephant
    Is very like a fan!"

The sixth no sooner had begun
    About the beast to grope,
Than, seizing on the swinging tail
    That fell within his scope,
"I see," quoth he, "the elephant
    Is very like a rope!"

And so these men of Indostan
    Disputed loud and long,
Each in his own opinion
    Exceeding stiff and strong,
Though each was partly in the right,
    And all were in the wrong!

The sunshine has a pleasant way
Of shining on us all the day,
It makes the little window bright,
And fills the room with pretty light.

It goes into the garden bed,
And shines on every flower head;
It warms each leaf and bud and seed
Till all the world is glad, indeed.

It creeps into the children's faces
And climbs into the highest places,
It makes me want to work and sing
And do my best in everything.

I'm glad the sunshine comes each day
To help me work and laugh and play;
To keep the little window bright
And fill the room with pretty light.

The coach is at the door at last;
The eager children, mounting fast
And kissing hands, in chorus sing:
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

To house and garden, field and lawn,
The meadow-gates we swang upon,
To pump and stable, tree and swing,
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

And fare you well for evermore,
O ladder at the hayloft door,
O hayloft where the cobwebs cling,
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

Crack goes the whip, and off we go;
The trees and houses smaller grow;
Last, round the woody turn we swing:
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

Have you ever heard of the Sugar-Plum Tree?
'Tis a marvel of great renown!
It blooms on the shore of the Lollypop sea
In the garden of Shut-Eye Town;
The fruit that it bears is so wondrously sweet
(As those who have tasted it say)
That good little children have only to eat
Of that fruit to be happy next day.

When you've got to the tree, you would have a hard time
To capture the fruit which I sing;
The tree is so tall that no person could climb
To the boughs where the sugar-plums swing!
But up in that tree sits a chocolate cat,
And a gingerbread dog prowls below -
And this is the way you contrive to get at
Those sugar-plums tempting you so:

You say but the word to that gingerbread dog
And he barks with such terrible zest
That the chocolate cat is at once all agog,
As her swelling proportions attest.
And the chocolate cat goes cavorting around
From this leafy limb unto that,
And the sugar-plums tumble, of course, to the ground -
Hurrah for that chocolate cat!

There are marshmallows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes,
With stripings of scarlet or gold,
And you carry away of the treasure that rains,
As much as your apron can hold!
So come, little child, cuddle closer to me
In your dainty white nightcap and gown,
And I'll rock you away to that Sugar-Plum Tree
In the garden of Shut-Eye Town.

I can’t wait for summer, when school days are done,
to spend the days playing outside in the sun.
I won’t have to study. No homework, no tests.
Just afternoons spent on adventures and quests.
Instead of mathematics and writing reports,
I’ll go to the park and play summertime sports.
Instead of assignments, report cards, and grades,
I’ll get to play baseball and watch the parades.
I’ll swing on the playground. I’ll swim in the pool
instead of just practicing lessons in school.
The second the school year is finally done
I’ll spend every minute with friends having fun.
I hardly can wait for the end of the year.
I’m counting the days until summer is here.
It’s hard to be patient. It’s hard to be cool.
It’s hard to believe it’s the first day of school.

“I Can’t Wait for Summer” copyright © 2005 Kenn Nesbitt. All Rights Reserved. Published in When the Teacher Isn’t Looking. Reprinted by permission of the author. www.poetry4kids.com

There's a dandy little fellow,
Who dresses all in yellow,
In yellow with an overcoat of green;
With his hair all crisp and curly,
In the springtime bright and early
A-tripping o'er the meadow he is seen.
Through all the bright June weather,
Like a jolly little tramp,
He wanders o'er the hillside, down the road;
Around his yellow feather,
Thy gypsy fireflies camp;
His companions are the wood lark and the toad.

But at last this little fellow
Doffs his dainty coat of yellow,
And very feebly totters o'er the green;
For he very old is growing
And with hair all white and flowing,
A-nodding in the sunlight he is seen.
Oh, poor dandy, once so spandy,
Golden dancer on the lea!
Older growing, white hair flowing,
Poor little baldhead dandy now is he!