The following twelve 20th century poems were all written before 1925 and are copyright-free. They are fresh, vivid, and musical, and they treat subjects that matter to children. Several of these poems invite discussion. Does the child agree with the speaker in the poem and why or why not? When is it okay--or not--to "laugh and go," leaving work undone? Are girls more timid than boys? How and why have people disagreed about Joan of Arc and her mission?
The first poems are for very young children, rising in age level as they go. I will add more poems as I have time.
The poems use numerous poetic devices which can be discussed if the child is interested. For many children, especially very young ones, it is probably best just to enjoy the sounds and images and stories. Devices like repetition, rhythm, and rhyme "sink in" even if they are not discussed. The important thing is for the child to learn the pleasure, excitement, and expressiveness that poems give us.
I Wish I Were a Fish
I wish I were a fish,
Swimming around in a dish.
Swish, swish, swish!
-- anonymous
The Little Turtle
There was a little turtle.
He lived in a box.
He swam in a puddle.
He climbed on the rocks.
He snapped at a mosquito.
He snapped at a flea,
He snapped at a minnow.
And he snapped at me. '
He caught the mosquito.
He caught the flea.
He caught the minnow.
But he didn't catch me.
--Vachel Lindsay
I Meant to Do My Work Today
I meant to do my work today--
But a brown bird sang in the apple-tree,
And a butterfly flitted across the field,
And all the leaves were calling me.
And the wind went sighing over the land,
Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand --
So what could I do but laugh and go?
--Richard Le Gallienne
Water Noises
When I am playing by myself
And all the boys are lost around,
Then I can hear the water go;
It makes a little talking sound.
Along the rocks below the tree,
I see it ripple up and wink;
And I can hear it saying on,
"And do you think? And do you think?
A bug shoots by that snaps and ticks,
And a bird flies up beside the tree
To go into the sky to sing,
I hear it say, "Killdee, killdee!"
Or else a yellow cow comes down
To splash a while and have a drink.
But when she goes I still can hear
The water say, "And do you think?"
--Elizabeth Madox Roberts
A Wish is Quite a Tiny Thing
A wish is quite a tiny thing
Just like a bird upon the wing,
It flies away all fancy free
And lights upon a house or tree;
It flies across the farthest air,
And builds a safe nest anywhere.
--Annette Wynne
Animal Crackers
Animal crackers, and cocoa to drink,
That is the finest of suppers, I think;
When I'm grown up and can have what I please
I think I shall always insist upon these.
What do you choose when you're offered a treat?
When Mother says, "What would you like best to eat?"
Is it waffles and syrup, or cinnamon toast?
It's cocoa and animals that I love the most!
The kitchen's the cosiest place that I know:
The kettle is singing, the stove is aglow,
And there in the twilight, how jolly to see
The cocoa and animals waiting for me.
--Christopher Morley
Yet Gentle Will the Griffin Be
(What Grandpa Told the Children)
The moon? It is a griffin's egg,
Hatching tomorrow night.
And how the little boys will watch
With shouting and delight
To see him break the shell and stretch
And creep across the sky.
The boys will laugh. The little girls,
I fear, may hide and cry.
Yet gentle will the griffin be,
Most decorous and fat,
And walk up to the Milky Way
And lap it like a cat.
- Vachel Lindsay
Mockery
Happened that the moon was up before I went to bed,
Poking through the bramble-trees her round, gold head.
I didn't stop for stocking,
I didn't stop for shoe,
But went running out to meet her--oh, the night was blue!
Barefoot down the hill road, dust beneath my toes;
Barefoot in the pasture smelling sweet of fern and rose!
Oh, night was running with me,
Tame folk were all in bed--
And the moon was just showing her wild, gold head.
But before I reached the hilltop where the bramble-trees are tall,
I looked to see my lady moon--she wasn't there at all!
Not sitting on the hilltop,
Nor slipping through the air,
Nor hanging in the brambles by her bright gold hair!
I walked slowly down the pasture and slowly up the hill,
Wondering and wondering, and very, very still.
I wouldn't look behind me,
I went at once to bed--
And poking through the window was her bold gold head!
--Katherine Dixon Riggs
The Lone Dog
I'm a lean dog, a keen dog, a wild dog, and lone;
I'm a rough dog, a tough dog, hunting on my own;
I'm a bad dog, a mad dog, teasing silly sheep;
I love to sit and bay the moon, to keep fat souls from sleep.
I'll never be a lap dog, licking dirty feet,
A sleek dog, a meek dog, cringing for my meat,
Not for me the fireside, the well-filled plate,
But shut door, and sharp stone, and cuff and kick and hate.
Not for me the other dogs, running by my side,
Some have run a short while, but none of them would bide.
O mine is still the long trail, the hard trail, the best,
Wide wind, and wild stars, and hunger of the quest.
-- Irene Rutherford McLeod
The Good Joan
Along the thousand roads of France,
Now there, now here, swift as a glance,
A cloud, a mist blown down the sky,
Good Joan of Arc goes riding by.
In Domremy at candlelight,
the orchards blowing rose and white
About the shadowy houses lie;
And Joan of Arc goes riding by.
On Avignon there falls a hush,
Brief as the singing of a thrush
Across old gardens April-high;
And Joan of Arc goes riding by.
The women bring the apples in,
Round Arles when the long gusts begin,
Then sit them down to sob and cry;
And Joan of Arc goes riding by.
Dim fall the hoofs down old Calais;
In Tours a flash of silver-gray,
like flaw of rain in a clear sky;
And Joan of Arc goes riding by.
Who saith that ancient France shall fail,
A rotting leaf driv'n down the gale?
Then her sons know not how to die;
Then good God dwells no more on high!
Tours, Arles, and Domremy reply!
For Joan of Arc goes riding by.
--Lizette Woodworth Reese
Velvet Shoes
Let us walk in the white snow
In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet and slow,
At a tranquil pace,
Under veils of white lace.
I shall go shod in silk,
And you in wool,
White as a white cow's milk,
More beautiful
Than the breast of a gull.
We shall walk through the still town,
In a windless peace;
We shall step upon white down,
Upon silver fleece,
Upon softer than these.
We shall walk in velvet shoes:
Wherever we go
Silence will fall like dews
On white silence below.
We shall walk in the snow.
--Elinor Wylie
Stars
Alone in the night
On a dark hill
With pines around me
Spicy and still,
And a heaven full of stars
Over my head,
White and topaz
And misty red;
Myriads with beating
Hearts of fire
that eons
Cannot vex or tire;
Up the dome of heaven
Like a great hill,
I watch them marching
Stately and still,
And I know that I
Am honored to be
Witness
Of so much majesty.
--Sara Teasdale
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