The Great Brown Owl
The Brown Owl sits in the ivy-bush,
And she looketh wondrous wise,
With a horny beak beneath her cowl,
And a pair of large round eyes.
She sat all day on the selfsame spray,
From sunrise till sunset;
And the dim grey light, it was all too bright
For the Owl to see in yet.
“Jenny Owlet, Jenny Owlet,” said a merry little bird,
“They say you’re wondrous wise;
But I don’t think you see, though you’re looking at me
With your large, round, shining eyes.”
But night came soon, and the pale white Moon
Rolled high up in the skies;
And the great Brown Owl flew away in her cowl,
With her large, round, shining eyes.
by Aunt Effie
Jane Euphemia Saxby, also known by the pseudonym Aunt Effie, was born as Jane Euphemia Browne on 27 January 1811 in Bridekirk, Cumberland, England. She was married to Stephen Henry Saxby in 1862. She became a hymn writer and a poet. Her published works include, “The Dove on the Cross” (1849), “Aunt Effie’s Rhymes for Little Children” (1852), “The Voice of the Bird” (1875), and “Aunt Effie’s Gift to the Nursery” (1876). Jane Euphemia Saxby passed on at 87 years of age on 25 March 1898 in Bedminster, Somerset, England.
Image shown: A tawny owl, also known as a brown owl. The bird is scientifically called Strix aluco, and is native to Eurasia.
The Brown Owl sits in the ivy-bush,
And she looketh wondrous wise,
With a horny beak beneath her cowl,
And a pair of large round eyes.
She sat all day on the selfsame spray,
From sunrise till sunset;
And the dim grey light, it was all too bright
For the Owl to see in yet.
“Jenny Owlet, Jenny Owlet,” said a merry little bird,
“They say you’re wondrous wise;
But I don’t think you see, though you’re looking at me
With your large, round, shining eyes.”
But night came soon, and the pale white Moon
Rolled high up in the skies;
And the great Brown Owl flew away in her cowl,
With her large, round, shining eyes.
by Aunt Effie
Jane Euphemia Saxby, also known by the pseudonym Aunt Effie, was born as Jane Euphemia Browne on 27 January 1811 in Bridekirk, Cumberland, England. She was married to Stephen Henry Saxby in 1862. She became a hymn writer and a poet. Her published works include, “The Dove on the Cross” (1849), “Aunt Effie’s Rhymes for Little Children” (1852), “The Voice of the Bird” (1875), and “Aunt Effie’s Gift to the Nursery” (1876). Jane Euphemia Saxby passed on at 87 years of age on 25 March 1898 in Bedminster, Somerset, England.
Image shown: A tawny owl, also known as a brown owl. The bird is scientifically called Strix aluco, and is native to Eurasia.
Kingfisher
The kingfisher will sit still
Until
I have my camera focused
The picture composed
The light ready
To push the button . . .
Then
He dashes away again.
Which is why
I will be very happy to
let you see
My picture of where a
kingfisher used to be.
by Anne Kilmer
The kingfisher will sit still
Until
I have my camera focused
The picture composed
The light ready
To push the button . . .
Then
He dashes away again.
Which is why
I will be very happy to
let you see
My picture of where a
kingfisher used to be.
by Anne Kilmer
Robin
There came to my window
One morning in spring
A sweet little robin,
She came here to sing.
The tune that she sang
It was prettier far,
Than any I’ve heard
On the flute or guitar.
Her wings she was spreading
To soar far away,
Then resting a moment
Seemed sweetly to say,
“Oh happy, how happy
The world seems to be,
Awake, dearest, child,
And be happy with me.”
by Author Unknown
Images shown: On the left is the American Robin or Turdus migratorius, which is named after the European Robin or Erithacus rubecula shown on the right. Although both birds are called Robins, they are members of separate species.
There came to my window
One morning in spring
A sweet little robin,
She came here to sing.
The tune that she sang
It was prettier far,
Than any I’ve heard
On the flute or guitar.
Her wings she was spreading
To soar far away,
Then resting a moment
Seemed sweetly to say,
“Oh happy, how happy
The world seems to be,
Awake, dearest, child,
And be happy with me.”
by Author Unknown
Images shown: On the left is the American Robin or Turdus migratorius, which is named after the European Robin or Erithacus rubecula shown on the right. Although both birds are called Robins, they are members of separate species.
Every Insect
Every insect (ant, fly, bee)
Is divided into three:
One head, one chest, one stomach part.
Some have brains.
All have a heart.
Insects have no bones,
No noses.
But with feelers they can smell
Dinner half a mile away.
Can your nose do half as well?
Also you’d be in a fix
With all those legs to manage:
Six.
by Dorothy Aldis
Dorothy Aldis was born as Dorothy Keeley on 13 March 1896 in Chicago, Illinois, United States of America. She became a children’s author and a poet. Her books include “Hiding” (1920) and “Nothing Is Impossible: The Story of Beatrix Potter” (1969). Dorothy Aldis passed on at 70 years of age on 4 July 1966 in Lake Forest, Illinois, United States of America.
Every insect (ant, fly, bee)
Is divided into three:
One head, one chest, one stomach part.
Some have brains.
All have a heart.
Insects have no bones,
No noses.
But with feelers they can smell
Dinner half a mile away.
Can your nose do half as well?
Also you’d be in a fix
With all those legs to manage:
Six.
by Dorothy Aldis
Dorothy Aldis was born as Dorothy Keeley on 13 March 1896 in Chicago, Illinois, United States of America. She became a children’s author and a poet. Her books include “Hiding” (1920) and “Nothing Is Impossible: The Story of Beatrix Potter” (1969). Dorothy Aldis passed on at 70 years of age on 4 July 1966 in Lake Forest, Illinois, United States of America.
The Woodpecker
His bill an auger is,
His head, a cap and frill.
He laboreth at every tree,
A worm his utmost goal.
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.
His bill an auger is,
His head, a cap and frill.
He laboreth at every tree,
A worm his utmost goal.
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.
The Swarm of Bees
One little honeybee by my window flew;
Soon came another - then there were two.
Two happy honeybees in the apple tree;
One more bee came buzzing up - then there were three.
Three busy honeybees starting to explore
Another bee came to help - then there were four.
Four laden honeybees flying to the hive;
They were joined by one more bee - then there were five.
Five tired honeybees with the others mix;
Now there’s a swarm of them - a hundred times six.
by Elsa Gorham Baker
One little honeybee by my window flew;
Soon came another - then there were two.
Two happy honeybees in the apple tree;
One more bee came buzzing up - then there were three.
Three busy honeybees starting to explore
Another bee came to help - then there were four.
Four laden honeybees flying to the hive;
They were joined by one more bee - then there were five.
Five tired honeybees with the others mix;
Now there’s a swarm of them - a hundred times six.
by Elsa Gorham Baker
My New Rabbit
We brought him home, I was so pleased,
We made a rabbit hutch,
I give him oats, I talk to him,
I love him very much.
Now when I talk to Rover dog,
He answers me, “Bow-wow!”
And when I talk to Pussy-cat,
She purrs and says, “Mee-ow!”
But Bunny never says a word,
Just twinkles with his nose,
And what that rabbit thinks about,
Why! no one ever knows.
My Mother says the fairies must
Have put on him a spell,
They told him all their secrets, then
They whispered, “Pray don’t tell.”
So Bunny sits there looking wise,
And twinkling with his nose,
And never, never, never tells
A single thing he knows.
by Elizabeth Gould
We brought him home, I was so pleased,
We made a rabbit hutch,
I give him oats, I talk to him,
I love him very much.
Now when I talk to Rover dog,
He answers me, “Bow-wow!”
And when I talk to Pussy-cat,
She purrs and says, “Mee-ow!”
But Bunny never says a word,
Just twinkles with his nose,
And what that rabbit thinks about,
Why! no one ever knows.
My Mother says the fairies must
Have put on him a spell,
They told him all their secrets, then
They whispered, “Pray don’t tell.”
So Bunny sits there looking wise,
And twinkling with his nose,
And never, never, never tells
A single thing he knows.
by Elizabeth Gould
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
Where have you been?
Over the mountains -
Such things I’ve seen!
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
What have you done?
Eaten blueberries
Made ripe by the sun.
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
What have you found?
Ice-cold spring water
Deep from the ground.
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
What do you dream?
Sweet tasting salmon
Swimming upstream.
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
Where do you creep?
Into my dark cave
Alone, let me sleep!
by Author Unknown
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
Where have you been?
Over the mountains -
Such things I’ve seen!
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
What have you done?
Eaten blueberries
Made ripe by the sun.
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
What have you found?
Ice-cold spring water
Deep from the ground.
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
What do you dream?
Sweet tasting salmon
Swimming upstream.
Grizzly Bear, Grizzly Bear,
Where do you creep?
Into my dark cave
Alone, let me sleep!
by Author Unknown
Musings of a Dog
It’s very nice to be a dog,
And sit at my master’s feet
To be fed, groomed and loved,
And go walking down the street.
But I think I’d rather be a cat
Having long sharp claws,
To climb high up into trees,
I can’t do that with my paws.
Maybe I should be a fish,
And swim each day in the sea,
For then I wouldn’t need a bath,
How wonderful that would be.
A bird, a rabbit, even a mouse,
At times I would like to be,
But when I stop and really think,
The best thing to be is me!
by Vivien Wade
It’s very nice to be a dog,
And sit at my master’s feet
To be fed, groomed and loved,
And go walking down the street.
But I think I’d rather be a cat
Having long sharp claws,
To climb high up into trees,
I can’t do that with my paws.
Maybe I should be a fish,
And swim each day in the sea,
For then I wouldn’t need a bath,
How wonderful that would be.
A bird, a rabbit, even a mouse,
At times I would like to be,
But when I stop and really think,
The best thing to be is me!
by Vivien Wade
Song of the Bees
We watch for the light of the morn to break
And color the eastern sky
With its blended hues of saffron and lake,
Then say to each other, “Awake! awake!
For our winter’s honey is all to make,
And our bread for a long supply!”
Then, off we hie* to the hill and the dell,
To the field, the meadow and bower.
In the columbine’s horn we love to dwell,
To dip in the lily with snow-white bell,
To search the balm in its odorous cell,
The mint and the rosemary-flower.
We seek the bloom of the eglantine,
Of the painted thistle and brier;
And follow the steps of the wandering vine,
Whether it trail on the earth, supine,
Or round the aspiring tree-top twine,
And reach for a state still higher.
As each, on the good of her sisters bent,
Is busy and cares for all;
We hope for an evening with hearts content,
For the winter of life without lament
That summer is gone with its hours misspent,
And the harvest is past recall!
by Hannah Flagg Gould
*hie: hurry
Hannah Flagg Gould was born on 3 September 1789 in Lancaster, Massachusetts, United States of America. She became a poet. Hannah Flagg Gould passed on at 76 years of age on 5 September 1865 in Newburyport, Massachusetts, United States of America.
We watch for the light of the morn to break
And color the eastern sky
With its blended hues of saffron and lake,
Then say to each other, “Awake! awake!
For our winter’s honey is all to make,
And our bread for a long supply!”
Then, off we hie* to the hill and the dell,
To the field, the meadow and bower.
In the columbine’s horn we love to dwell,
To dip in the lily with snow-white bell,
To search the balm in its odorous cell,
The mint and the rosemary-flower.
We seek the bloom of the eglantine,
Of the painted thistle and brier;
And follow the steps of the wandering vine,
Whether it trail on the earth, supine,
Or round the aspiring tree-top twine,
And reach for a state still higher.
As each, on the good of her sisters bent,
Is busy and cares for all;
We hope for an evening with hearts content,
For the winter of life without lament
That summer is gone with its hours misspent,
And the harvest is past recall!
by Hannah Flagg Gould
*hie: hurry
Hannah Flagg Gould was born on 3 September 1789 in Lancaster, Massachusetts, United States of America. She became a poet. Hannah Flagg Gould passed on at 76 years of age on 5 September 1865 in Newburyport, Massachusetts, United States of America.
