Come to the Window

Just a lovely illustration by Sharon Kane (from the Little Golden Book Counting Rhymes 1972).

Naughty Soap Song

 Too cute!  This came from The Illustrated Treasurey of Children's Literature (1955)   

Springtime

 

Morning has Broken

Morning has broken

Like the first morning,

Blackbird has spoken

     Like the first bird.

Praise for the singing!

Praise for the morning!

Praise for them, springing

     From the first Word.

Sweet the rain's new fall

Sunlit from heaven,

Like the first dewfall

     In the first hour.

Praise for the sweetness

Of the wet garden,

Sprung in completeness

     From the first shower.

Waking at 5am for my job at the coffee shop can be rough.  But oh the rewards when I walk down and see the sun rise!  I sometimes even sing the hymn "Morning has Broken" on my way.  (Cat Stevens has the most beautiful rendition.). It was only recently that I learned that Eleanor Farjeon wrote the original verse "A Morning Song (For the First Day of Spring)".  We have it in our 1957 copy of The Children's Bells.

School's Out

School's Out

Girl's scream,
     Boys shout;
Dogs bark,
     School's out.

Cats run,
     Horses shy;
Into trees
     Birds fly.

Babes wake
     Open-eyed;
If they can,
     Tramps hide.

Old man,
     Hobble home;
Merry mites,
     Welcome.

                 -W.H. Davies

Children, It's Spring

It's Spring indeed and our backyard is covered in tiny purple violets.  I can never get through this season without Mary Oliver...

Children, It's Spring

And this is the lady

whom everyone loves, Ms. Violet

in her purple gown

or, on special occasions, 

a dress the color

of sunlight.  She sits

in the mossy weeds and waits

to be noticed.

She loves dampness.

She loves attention.  She loves especially

to be picked by careful fingers,

young fingers, entranced

by what has happened 

to the world.

We, the older ones,

call it Spring,

and we have been through it

many times.

But there is still nothing

like the children bringing home

such happiness

in their small hands.

-Mary Oliver

The Day Before April

The Day Before April

The day before April

Alone, alone,

I walked in the woods 

And sat on a stone.

I sat on a broad stone

And sang to the birds.

The tune was God's making

But I made the words.

-Mary Carolyn Davies

Ghosts

A cold and starry darkness moans

And settles wide and still

Over a jumble of tumbled stones

Dark on a darker hill.

An owl among those shadowy walls,

Gray against the gray

Of ruins and brittle weeds, calls

And soundless swoops away.

Rustling over scattered stones

Dancers hover and sway,

Drifting among their own bones

Like webs of the Milky Way.

-Harry Behn

Christmas Eve

(Good 'ol Walter de la Mare)

Saying goodbye to Summer

Happy Hallowe'en!

Hallowe'en

Bolt and bar the front door,

Draw the curtains tight;

Wise folk are in before

Moon-rise to-night.

Hallowe'en, Hallowe'en,

Chestnuts to roast, 

A gift for the fairy,

A prayer for the ghost.

Who will have their fate told,

This night is known,

Whose hand is full of gold,

Who goes alone.

Hallowe'en, Hallowe'en,

Snapdragon blue,

A lover for me

And a fortune for you

Stars shiver blue and green,

Moon's wide and white;

There, tattered clouds between,

Witches take flight.

Hallowe'en, Hallowe'en,

Apples a-bob,

Elves at the key-hole

And imps on the hob.

"Twelve," calls the deep bell

To the hollow night.

"Twelve," whisper steeple tops

Far out of sight.

Hallowe'en, Hallowe'en,

Fires burn high.

Who shall say certainly,

Who can tell truthfully,

What solemn company

Passes through the sky?

-Molly Capes

Rain rain rain

Those who live around here will know what I mean.

Now Through the Dusk

School has started and we are up just after 6am.  These days I'm looking forward to sleep at bedtime.

And lovely Sleep

With long-drawn oar

Turns away

From the whispering shore

Barefoot Days

How I love these barefoot days!

     May Night

The Spring is fresh and fearless

     And every leaf is new,

The world is brimmed with moonlight, 

     The lilac brimmed with dew.

Here in the moving shadows

     I catch my breath and sing-

My heart is fresh and fearless

     And over-brimmed with spring.

                        -Sara Teasdale 

The Umbrella Brigade

All this Spring rain sure is making the flowers grow!  And the puddles!  oh, the puddles are a sight to stir one's blood!  Charlotte loves to be out in it with her green boots and her umbrella.

The Man in the Moon

There is such a moon tonight!  Large and light and luminous.  We all ran out to the front yard to peer at it through our binoculars (we don't have a telescope). 

Oh, and this beauty that we read tonight in bed, from The Tall Book of Make-Believe. 

Thunder

Call the cows home!
Call the cows home!
Louring storm clouds
Hitherward come;
East to West
Their wings are spread;
Lost in the blue
Is each heaven-high head;
They've dimmed the sun;
Turned day to night;
With a whistling wind
The woods are white;
Down streams the rain
On farm, barn, byre,
Bright green hill,
And bramble and brier,
Filling the valley
With glimmer and gloom:
Call the cows home!
Call the cows home!
               -Walter de la Mare

Thunderstorms and hail today.  I think everyone should have a big book of Walter de la Mare's poems.

When the Frost is on the Pumpkin

The Kitten and Falling Leaves

Autumn leaves and kittens.  Perfect.