Famous Children Poems - Page 4

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.

Over in the meadow,
    In the sand, in the sun,
Lived an old mother toad
    And her little toadie one.
"Wink!" said the mother;
    "I wink," said the one;
So she winked and she blinked
    In the sand, in the sun.

Over in the meadow,
    Where the stream runs blue,
Lived an old mother fish
    And her little fishes two.
"Swim!" said the mother;
    "We swim," said the two;
So they swam and they leaped
    Where the stream runs blue.

Over in the meadow,
    In a hole in a tree,
Lived a mother bluebird
    And her little birdies three.
"Sing!" said the mother;
    "We sing," said the three;
So they sang and were glad
    In the hole in the tree.

Over in the meadow,
    In a snug beehive,
Lived a mother honeybee
    And her little honeys five.
"Buzz!" said the mother;
    "We buzz," said the five;
So they buzzed and they hummed
    In the snug beehive.

Over in the meadow,
    Where the clear pools shine,
Lived a green mother frog,
    And her little froggies nine.
"Croak!" said the mother;
    "We croak," said the nine;
So they croaked and they splashed
    Where the clear pools shine.

Over in the meadow,
    In a sly little den,
Lived a gray mother spider
    And her little spiders ten.
"Spin!" said the mother;
    "We spin," said the ten;
So they spun lace webs
    In their sly little den.

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!

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!

Hello, my name is Andy.
I’m a fan of eating candy.
It’s delicious and it’s dandy,
and my favorite thing to eat.

When I want some sweets for eating,
I’ll be at your door repeating
that fantastic, famous greeting…
I’ll be shouting, “Trick or treat!”

I’ll be dressed up like a mummy,
out in search of something yummy,
like a chocolate bar or gummi.
I’ll be marching door-to-door.

And, as long as you have dishes
full of candy so delicious
it can satisfy my wishes,
I’ll keep coming back for more.

You might think I’m being sneaky,
or perhaps a little cheeky,
and some people say it’s freaky,
and they often ask me why…

And they tell me that it’s cheating
to be on their doorstep beating
on the front door, trick-or-treating,
in the middle of July.

“Candy Andy” copyright © 2021 Kenn Nesbitt. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted by permission of the author. www.poetry4kids.com

Each new little day slips out of my hand,
And then with another new day I stand;
But soon that is gone and folded away—
I wish I might keep forever one day!
I wish that one good day might always stay,
For the good days hurry on so fast,
Only the bad days seem to last;
But soon the worst of days is past;
And now within my room I stand
With a new little day within my hand.

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.

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!

Swinging on a birch-tree
    To a sleepy tune,
Hummed by all the breezes
    In the month of June!
Little leaves a-flutter
    Sound like dancing drops
Of a Brook on pebbles,—
    Song that never stops.

Up and down we seesaw:
    Up into the sky;
How it opens on us,
    Like a wide blue eye!
You and I are sailors
    Rocking on a mast;
And the world's our vessel:
    Ho! she sails so fast!