By Ada M. Skinner, Frances Gillespy Wickes, Maud Petersham, Miska Petersham
First quantity of A kid's personal publication of Verse, a three-volume set deliberate to be used throughout the 4 basic years. This strangely high quality selection of poetry was once chosen with the kid's pursuits in brain. comprises sound rhymes and jingles to entice the ear, descriptive poems to create photographs within the imagination, lullabies and lyrics to hot the guts, and story-telling poems to stir the mind's eye. Attractively illustrated by way of Maud and Miska Petersham. compatible for a long time five to eight.
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Extra info for A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book One
Down into wonderland, go! —J. G. HOLLAND Baby Seed Song Little brown seed, oh! little brown brother, Are you awake in the dark? " the lark says, "waken and dress you, Put on your green coats and gay, Blue sky will shine on you, sunshine caress you— Waken! " Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother, What kind of flower will you be? I'll be a poppy—all white, like my mother; Do be a poppy like me. What! you're a sunflower? How I shall miss you When you're grown golden and high! But I shall send all the bees up to kiss you; Little brown brother, good-by!
Winter Night Blow, wind, blow! Drift the flying snow! Send it twirling, whirling overhead! There's a bedroom in a tree Where, snug as snug can be, The squirrel nests in his cozy bed. Shriek, wind, shriek! Make the branches creak! Battle with the boughs till break o' day! In a snow-cave warm and tight, Through the icy winter night The rabbit sleeps the peaceful hours away. Call, wind, call! In entry and in hall! Straight from off the mountain white and wild! Soft purrs the pussy-cat, On her little fluffy mat, And beside her nestles close her furry child.
Under the toadstool, Sound asleep, Sat a big Dormouse All in a heap. Trembled the wee Elf Frightened, and yet Fearing to fly away Lest he get wet. To the next shelter Maybe a mile Sudden the wee Elf Smiled a wee smile. Tugged till the toadstool Toppled in two Holding it over him Gayly he flew. Soon he was safe home, Dry as could be. Soon woke the Dormouse "Good gracious me! " Loud he lamented, And that's how umbrellas First were invented. —OLIVER HERFORD Old Dame Cricket Old Dame Cricket, down in a thicket, Brought up her children nine,— Queer little chaps, in glossy black caps And brown little suits so fine.