Spider
Clever spider spins a thread
To make a trap we call a web.
Clever spider knows that she
Will have some insects with her tea.
by Author Unknown
Clever spider spins a thread
To make a trap we call a web.
Clever spider knows that she
Will have some insects with her tea.
by Author Unknown
The Vulture
The Vulture eats between his meals
And that’s the reason why
He very, very rarely feels
As well as you and I.
His eye is dull, his head is bald,
His neck is growing thinner.
Oh! what a lesson for us all
To only eat at dinner!
by Hilaire Belloc
Joseph Hilaire Pierre René Belloc, also known simply as Hilaire Belloc, was born on 27 July 1870 in La Celle-Saint Cloud, Seine-et-Oise, France. He was Catholic by faith. He moved to England in 1878, and became a naturalized citizen in 1902, but retained both French and British citizenship. He was married to Elodie Agnes Hogan in 1896. He became a soldier, a sailor, an orator, a writer, a poet, an essayist, a novelist, a satirist, and a historian. He was President of the Oxford Union, and later a Member of Parliament for Salford (1906 - 1910). Joseph Hilaire Pierre René Belloc passed on at 82 years of age on 16 July 1953 in Guildford, Surrey, England.
The Vulture eats between his meals
And that’s the reason why
He very, very rarely feels
As well as you and I.
His eye is dull, his head is bald,
His neck is growing thinner.
Oh! what a lesson for us all
To only eat at dinner!
by Hilaire Belloc
Joseph Hilaire Pierre René Belloc, also known simply as Hilaire Belloc, was born on 27 July 1870 in La Celle-Saint Cloud, Seine-et-Oise, France. He was Catholic by faith. He moved to England in 1878, and became a naturalized citizen in 1902, but retained both French and British citizenship. He was married to Elodie Agnes Hogan in 1896. He became a soldier, a sailor, an orator, a writer, a poet, an essayist, a novelist, a satirist, and a historian. He was President of the Oxford Union, and later a Member of Parliament for Salford (1906 - 1910). Joseph Hilaire Pierre René Belloc passed on at 82 years of age on 16 July 1953 in Guildford, Surrey, England.
The Butterfly and the Bee
Methought I heard a butterfly
Say to a laboring bee;
“Thou hast no colors of the sky
On painted wings like me.”
“Poor child of vanity! those dyes,
And colors bright and rare,”
With mild reproof, the bee replies,
“Are all beneath my care.”
“Content I toil from morn till eve,
And, scorning idleness,
To tribes of gaudy sloth I leave
The vanity of dress.”
by William Lisle Bowles
Methought I heard a butterfly
Say to a laboring bee;
“Thou hast no colors of the sky
On painted wings like me.”
“Poor child of vanity! those dyes,
And colors bright and rare,”
With mild reproof, the bee replies,
“Are all beneath my care.”
“Content I toil from morn till eve,
And, scorning idleness,
To tribes of gaudy sloth I leave
The vanity of dress.”
by William Lisle Bowles
The Fuzzy Caterpillar
The fuzzy caterpillar
Curled upon a leaf,
Spun her little chrysalis
And then fell fast asleep.
While she was sleeping,
She dreamed that she could fly,
And later when she woke up
She was a butterfly!
by Author Unknown: sung to the same tune as that of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” or “The Eensy Weensy Spider”
Images Shown Above
1. Monarch Caterpillar
2. Monarch Chrysalis (sometimes called a cocoon)
3. Monarch Butterfly
The fuzzy caterpillar
Curled upon a leaf,
Spun her little chrysalis
And then fell fast asleep.
While she was sleeping,
She dreamed that she could fly,
And later when she woke up
She was a butterfly!
by Author Unknown: sung to the same tune as that of “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” or “The Eensy Weensy Spider”
Images Shown Above
1. Monarch Caterpillar
2. Monarch Chrysalis (sometimes called a cocoon)
3. Monarch Butterfly
Bear
Big paws,
Big black nose,
Stubby tail,
And growl he goes.
Where is he?
Well, who knows?
He sleeps all winter
When it snows.
by Author Unknown
Big paws,
Big black nose,
Stubby tail,
And growl he goes.
Where is he?
Well, who knows?
He sleeps all winter
When it snows.
by Author Unknown
Ladybug
Ladybug all dressed in red
Strolling through the flowerbed.
If I were tiny just like you
I’d creep among the flowers too!
by Maria Fleming
Ladybug all dressed in red
Strolling through the flowerbed.
If I were tiny just like you
I’d creep among the flowers too!
by Maria Fleming
The Goose Explains
It was a goose who sadly cried,
“Alas! Alas! The farm is wide,
And large the barnyard company,
But no one ever looks at me;
There really seems to be no use,
Or praise, or glory, for a goose.
They pet the dog whose bark and bite
Scare tramps by day and thieves by night;
But when I bravely stand on guard,
And drive intruders from the yard,
They laugh at me. The kitten plays,
And all admire her cunning ways;
But when I venture in the room,
To play, in turn, some stick or broom
Soon drives me out. Those birds they call
Canaries cannot sing at all
In my sweet fashion; yet their lay
Is praised - from mine folks turn away.
They prize the horse who pulls the cart;
But when I try to do my part,
And mount the shafts to help him draw,
They whip me off. Last week I saw
Two stupid horses pull a plow,
I watched the work, I learned just how;
Then, with my bill, I did the same
In flower-beds, and got only blame.
It really seems of little use
To try to help - when one’s a goose!”
by Author Unknown
It was a goose who sadly cried,
“Alas! Alas! The farm is wide,
And large the barnyard company,
But no one ever looks at me;
There really seems to be no use,
Or praise, or glory, for a goose.
They pet the dog whose bark and bite
Scare tramps by day and thieves by night;
But when I bravely stand on guard,
And drive intruders from the yard,
They laugh at me. The kitten plays,
And all admire her cunning ways;
But when I venture in the room,
To play, in turn, some stick or broom
Soon drives me out. Those birds they call
Canaries cannot sing at all
In my sweet fashion; yet their lay
Is praised - from mine folks turn away.
They prize the horse who pulls the cart;
But when I try to do my part,
And mount the shafts to help him draw,
They whip me off. Last week I saw
Two stupid horses pull a plow,
I watched the work, I learned just how;
Then, with my bill, I did the same
In flower-beds, and got only blame.
It really seems of little use
To try to help - when one’s a goose!”
by Author Unknown
The Rooks
The rooks are building on the trees;
They build there every spring:
“Caw, caw,” is all they say,
For none of them can sing.
They’re up before the break of day,
And up till late at night;
For they must labor busily
As long as it is light.
And many a crooked stick they bring,
And many a slender twig,
And many a tuft of moss, until
Their nests are round and big.
“Caw, caw.” Oh, what a noise
They make in rainy weather!
Good children always speak by turns,
But rooks all talk together.
by Jane Euphemia Browne
The rooks are building on the trees;
They build there every spring:
“Caw, caw,” is all they say,
For none of them can sing.
They’re up before the break of day,
And up till late at night;
For they must labor busily
As long as it is light.
And many a crooked stick they bring,
And many a slender twig,
And many a tuft of moss, until
Their nests are round and big.
“Caw, caw.” Oh, what a noise
They make in rainy weather!
Good children always speak by turns,
But rooks all talk together.
by Jane Euphemia Browne
A Moth the Hue of This
A Moth the hue of this
Haunts Candles in Brazil.
Nature’s Experience would make
Our Reddest Second pale.
Nature is fond, I sometimes think,
Of Trinkets, as a Girl.
by Emily Dickinson
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was born on 10 December 1830 in Amherst, Massachusetts, United States of America. Though considered one of the great poets, she was shy and reclusive. She never married, seldom left her house, and had few visitors. Only seven of her nearly 1,800 poems were published during her lifetime, all anonymously. Emily Dickinson passed on at 55 years of age on 15 May 1886 in Amherst, Massachusetts, United States of America. The first collection of her verse, titled “Poems,” was published four years later.
Image shown: Hawk Moth.
A Moth the hue of this
Haunts Candles in Brazil.
Nature’s Experience would make
Our Reddest Second pale.
Nature is fond, I sometimes think,
Of Trinkets, as a Girl.
by Emily Dickinson
Emily Elizabeth Dickinson was born on 10 December 1830 in Amherst, Massachusetts, United States of America. Though considered one of the great poets, she was shy and reclusive. She never married, seldom left her house, and had few visitors. Only seven of her nearly 1,800 poems were published during her lifetime, all anonymously. Emily Dickinson passed on at 55 years of age on 15 May 1886 in Amherst, Massachusetts, United States of America. The first collection of her verse, titled “Poems,” was published four years later.
Image shown: Hawk Moth.
What Do You Suppose?
What do you suppose?
A bee sat on my nose.
Then what do you think?
He gave me a wink.
And said, “I beg your pardon,
I thought you were a garden.”
by Author Unknown
What do you suppose?
A bee sat on my nose.
Then what do you think?
He gave me a wink.
And said, “I beg your pardon,
I thought you were a garden.”
by Author Unknown
