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  DOVER CHILDREN’S THRIFT CLASSICS

  EDITOR: PHILIP SMITH

  Copyright © 1992 by Dover Publications, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  Favorite Poems of Childhood is a new anthology of previously published children’s verse, first published by Dover Publications, Inc., in 1992.

  The poem “Barbershop” originally appeared in Never Make Fun of a Turtle, My Son, © 1969 by Martin Gardner. Reprinted courtesy of Martin Gardner.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Favorite poems of childhood / edited by Philip Smith ; illustrated by Harriet

  Golden.

  p. cm.—(Dover children’s thrift classics)

  Includes indexes.

  Summary: A collection of familiar poems for and about children, by such authors as Robert Louis Stevenson, Christina Rossetti, Eugene Field, and Sarah Josepha Hale.

  9780486110349

  1. Children’s poetry, English. 2. Children’s poetry, American. [1. English poetry—Collections. 2. American poetry—Collections.] I. Smith, Philip, 1967- II. Golden, Harriet, ill. III. Series.

  PR1175.3.F38 1992

  821.008’09282—dc20

  92–21799

  CIP

  AC

  Manufactured in the United States by Courier Corporation

  27089015

  www.doverpublications.com

  Note

  THIS VOLUME contains a sampling of the most familiar and acclaimed poems written for and about the very young. These verses will appeal to both young and old alike, and represent the talents of many authors famous for adult- as well as child-oriented works. The many different poem forms displayed here suggest just a few of the countless possibilities afforded by imaginative use of rhyme, rhythm, line length and treatment of subject matter. After you read these poems you may use your imagination to create original works of your own.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Note

  The Land of Nod

  Hurt No Living Thing

  The Cat of Cats

  I Love Little Pussy

  Mary’s Lamb

  Holding Hands

  The Field Mouse

  Mr. Finney’s Turnip

  What Do We Plant?

  A Wee Little Worm

  Trees - (FOR MRS. HENRY MILLS ALDEN)

  Trees

  A Frisky Lamb

  Whisky Frisky

  Nurse’s Song

  The Three Little Kittens

  There Were Two Ghostesses

  Jabberwocky

  Only One Mother

  The Cow

  Tomorrow’s the Fair

  The Duel

  The Moon’s the North Wind’s Cooky - (WHAT THE LITTLE GIRL SAID)

  Mr. Moon - A SONG OF THE LITTLE PEOPLE

  Judging by Appearances

  The Dinkey-Bird

  The Elf and the Dormouse

  The Little Elf

  The Fairies

  An Unsuspected Fact

  Minnie and Winnie

  A Sea-Song from the Shore

  Ducks’ Ditty

  Swimming

  If

  The Fisherman

  O Sailor, Come Ashore

  In the Night

  Dutch Lullaby

  The Walrus and the Carpenter

  Laughing Song

  The Man in the Wilderness

  What Is Pink?

  The Purple Cow

  The Owl and the Pussy-cat

  Antigonish

  There Was a Little Girl

  A Magician

  King Arthur

  The Young Lady of Niger

  Godfrey Gordon Gustavus Gore

  The Rhyme of Dorothy Rose

  My Shadow

  A Tragedy

  The Pantry Ghosts

  Mr. Coggs, Watchmaker

  Little Boy Blue

  The Quangle Wangle’s Hat

  The Butter Betty Bought

  Barbershop

  The Raggedy Man

  Great Fleas Have Little Fleas

  The Peppery Man

  August

  The Mayor of Scuttleton

  Aunt Eliza

  Armies in the Fire

  The Star

  The Tyger

  The Children’s Hour

  Tender-Heartedness

  Windy Nights

  October

  The Whango Tree

  Little Orphant Annie

  Thanksgiving Day

  Extremes

  The Swing

  A Flea and a Fly in a Flue

  The Eagle

  Who Has Seen the Wind?

  I’m Nobody! Who Are You?

  November Night

  Eldorado

  Alphabetical List of Titles

  Alphabetical List of Authors

  Alphabetical List of First Lines

  The Land of Nod

  From breakfast on through all the day

  At home among my friends I stay,

  But every night I go abroad

  Afar into the land of Nod.

  All by myself I have to go,

  With none to tell me what to do—

  All alone beside the streams

  And up the mountain-sides of dreams.

  The strangest things are there for me,

  Both things to eat and things to see,

  And many frightening sights abroad

  Till morning in the land of Nod.

  Try as I like to find the way,

  I never can get back by day,

  Nor can remember plain and clear

  The curious music that I hear.

  —ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

  Hurt No Living Thing

  Hurt no living thing:

  Ladybird, nor butterfly,

  Nor moth with dusty wing,

  Nor cricket chirping cheerily,

  Nor grasshopper so light of leap,

  Nor dancing gnat, nor beetle fat,

  Nor harmless worms that creep.

  —CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

  The Cat of Cats

  I am the cat of cats. I am

  The everlasting cat!

  Cunning, and old, and sleek as jam,

  The everlasting cat!

  I hunt the vermin in the night—

  The everlasting cat!

  For I see best without the light—

  The everlasting cat!

  —WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS

  I Love Little Pussy

  I love little Pussy.

  Her coat is so warm,

  And if I don’t hurt
her,

  She’ll do me no harm.

  So I’ll not pull her tail,

  Or drive her away,

  But Pussy and I

  Very gently will play,

  She will sit by my side,

  And I’ll give her her food,

  And she’ll like me because

  I am gentle and good.

  I’ll pat little Pussy,

  And then she will purr,

  And thus show her thanks

  For my kindness to her;

  I’ll not pinch her ears,

  Nor tread on her paws,

  Lest I should provoke her

  To use her sharp claws;

  I never will vex her,

  Nor make her displeased,

  For Pussy can’t bear

  To be worried or teased.

  —JANE TAYLOR

  Mary’s Lamb

  Mary had a little lamb,

  Its fleece was white as snow;

  And everywhere that Mary went,

  The lamb was sure to go.

  He followed her to school one day,

  Which was against the rule;

  It made the children laugh and play

  To see a lamb at school.

  And so the teacher turned him out,

  But still he lingered near,

  And waited patiently about

  Till Mary did appear.

  Then he ran to her, and laid

  His head upon her arm,

  As if he said, “I’m not afraid—

  You’ll keep me from all harm.”

  “What makes the lamb love Mary so?”

  The eager children cried.

  “Oh, Mary loves the lamb, you know,”

  The teacher quick replied.

  And you each gentle animal

  In confidence may bind,

  And make them follow at your will,

  If you are only kind.

  —SARAH JOSEPHA HALE

  He followed her to school one day.

  Holding Hands

  Elephants walking

  Along the trails

  Are holding hands

  By holding tails.

  Trunks and tails

  Are handy things

  When elephants walk

  In Circus rings.

  Elephants work

  And elephants play

  And elephants walk

  And feel so gay.

  And when they walk—

  It never fails

  They’re holding hands

  By holding tails.

  —LENORE M. LINK

  The Field Mouse

  When the moon shines o’er the corn

  and the beetle drones his horn,

  And the flittermice swift fly,

  And the nightjars swooping cry,

  And the young hares run and leap,

  We waken from our sleep.

  And we climb with tiny feet

  And we munch the green corn sweet

  With startled eyes for fear

  The white owl should fly near,

  Or long slim weasel spring

  Upon us where we swing.

  We do not hurt at all;

  Is there not room for all

  Within the happy world?

  All day we lie close curled

  In drowsy sleep, nor rise

  Till through the dusky skies

  The moon shines o’er the corn

  And the beetle drones his horn.

  —WILLIAM SHARP

  Mr. Finney’s Turnip

  Mr. Finney had a turnip

  And it grew and it grew;

  And it grew behind the barn,

  And that turnip did no harm.

  There it grew and it grew

  Till it could grow no longer;

  Then his daughter Lizzie picked it

  And put it in the cellar.

  There it lay and it lay

  Till it began to rot;

  And his daughter Susie took it

  And put it in the pot.

  And they boiled it and boiled it

  As long as they were able,

  And then his daughters took it

  And put it on the table.

  Mr. Finney and his wife

  They sat down to sup;

  And they ate and they ate

  And they ate that turnip up.

  —ANONYMOUS

  What Do We Plant?

  What do we plant when we plant the tree?

  We plant the ship which will cross the sea.

  We plant the mast to carry the sails;

  We plant the planks to withstand the gales—

  The keel, the keelson, the beam, the knee;

  We plant the ship when we plant the tree.

  What do we plant when we plant the tree?

  We plant the houses for you and me.

  We plant the rafters, the shingles, the floors,

  We plant the studding, the lath, the doors,

  The beams and siding, all parts that be;

  We plant the house when we plant the tree.

  What do we plant when we plant the tree?

  A thousand things that we daily see;

  We plant the spire that out-towers the crag,

  We plant the staff for our country’s flag,

  We plant the shade, from the hot sun free;

  We plant all these when we plant the tree.

  —HENRY ABBEY

  A Wee Little Worm

  A wee little worm in a hickory-nut

  Sang, happy as he could be,

  “O I live in the heart of the whole round world,

  And it all belongs to me!”

  —JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

  Trees

  (FOR MRS. HENRY MILLS ALDEN)

  I think that I shall never see

  A poem lovely as a tree.

  A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

  Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;

  A tree that looks at God all day,

  And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

  A tree that may in Summer wear

  A nest of robins in her hair;

  Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

  Who intimately lives with rain.

  Poems are made by fools like me,

  But only God can make a tree.

  —JOYCE KILMER

  Trees

  The Oak is called the king of trees,

  The Aspen quivers in the breeze,

  The Poplar grows up straight and tall,

  The Peach tree spreads along the wall,

  The Sycamore gives pleasant shade,

  The Willow droops in watery glade,

  The Fir tree useful timber gives,

  The Beech amid the forest lives.

  —SARA COLERIDGE

  A Frisky Lamb

  A frisky lamb

  And a frisky child

  Playing their pranks

  In a cowslip meadow:

  The sky all blue

  And the air all mild

  And the fields all sun

  And the lanes half shadow.

  —CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

  Whisky Frisky

  Whisky, frisky,

  Hipperty hop,

  Up he goes

  To the tree top!

  Whirly, twirly,

  Round and round,

  Down he scampers

  To the ground.

  Furly, curly,

  What a tail,

  Tall as a feather,

  Broad as a sail.

  Where’s his supper?

  In the shell.

  Snappy, cracky,

  Out it fell.

  —ANONYMOUS

  Nurse’s Song

  When the voices of children are heard on the

  green,

  And laughing is heard on the hill,

  My heart is at rest within my breast,

  And everything else is still.

  “Then come home, my children, the sun is gone />
  down.

  And the dews of night arise;

  Come, come, leave off play, and let us away

  Till the morning appears in the skies.”

  “No, no, let us play, for it is yet day,

  And we cannot go to sleep;

  Besides, in the sky the little birds fly,

  And the hills are all cover’d with sheep.”

  “Well, well, go & play till the light fades away,

  And then go home to bed.”

  The little ones leaped & shouted & laugh’d

  And all the hills ecchoed.

  —WILLIAM BLAZE

  The Three Little Kittens

  Three little kittens lost their mittens;

  And they began to cry,

  “Oh, mother dear,