- Published on
Little Raindrops
Oh, where do you come from,
You little drops of rain,
Pitter patter, pitter patter,
Down the window pane?
They won’t let me walk,
And they won’t let me play,
And they won’t let me go
Out of doors at all today.
They put away my playthings.
Because I broke them all,
And then they locked up all my bricks,
And took away my ball.
Tell me, little raindrops,
Is that the way you play,
Pitter patter, pitter patter,
All the rainy day?
They say I’m very naughty,
But I’ve nothing else to do
But sit here at the window;
I should like to play with you.
The little raindrops cannot speak,
But ‘pitter patter pat’
Means, “We can play on this side,
Why can’t you play on that?”
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.
Oh, where do you come from,
You little drops of rain,
Pitter patter, pitter patter,
Down the window pane?
They won’t let me walk,
And they won’t let me play,
And they won’t let me go
Out of doors at all today.
They put away my playthings.
Because I broke them all,
And then they locked up all my bricks,
And took away my ball.
Tell me, little raindrops,
Is that the way you play,
Pitter patter, pitter patter,
All the rainy day?
They say I’m very naughty,
But I’ve nothing else to do
But sit here at the window;
I should like to play with you.
The little raindrops cannot speak,
But ‘pitter patter pat’
Means, “We can play on this side,
Why can’t you play on that?”
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.
- Published on
The Things I Do
I’m very good at climbing
I nearly climbed a tree
But just as I was almost up
I sort of skinned my knee.
I’m wonderful at walking
I almost walked a mile
But when I got around the block
I rested for a while.
I’m excellent at swimming
Though I’m not very old
I almost swam the ocean
But the water was too cold.
But what I’m really best at
Is skipping down the hall.
I’m very good at skipping.
I’m wonderful at skipping.
I’m marvelous at skipping.
That is unless I fall.
by Karla Kuskin
Karla Kuskin, who sometimes wrote under the pseudonym Nicholas J. Charles, was born as Karla Seidman on 17 July 1932 in New York City, New York, United States of America. She became a writer, a poet, and an illustrator of children’s literature. Karla Kuskin passed on at 77 years of age on 20 August 2009 in Seattle, Washington, United States of America.
I’m very good at climbing
I nearly climbed a tree
But just as I was almost up
I sort of skinned my knee.
I’m wonderful at walking
I almost walked a mile
But when I got around the block
I rested for a while.
I’m excellent at swimming
Though I’m not very old
I almost swam the ocean
But the water was too cold.
But what I’m really best at
Is skipping down the hall.
I’m very good at skipping.
I’m wonderful at skipping.
I’m marvelous at skipping.
That is unless I fall.
by Karla Kuskin
Karla Kuskin, who sometimes wrote under the pseudonym Nicholas J. Charles, was born as Karla Seidman on 17 July 1932 in New York City, New York, United States of America. She became a writer, a poet, and an illustrator of children’s literature. Karla Kuskin passed on at 77 years of age on 20 August 2009 in Seattle, Washington, United States of America.
- Published on
Riding a Two-Wheeled Bike
I can’t believe I’m doing this!
I’m riding on two wheels!
Why, it was only yesterday
My bike had training wheels!
My parents’ said, “You’re ready now.”
“OK,” I said, “I’ll try.”
My daddy ran and held the seat
While mommy said, “Let’s fly!”
I’m peddling really fast now.
The wind is in my hair.
I feel as if I’m flying high
Two-wheeling through the air!
by Author Unknown
I can’t believe I’m doing this!
I’m riding on two wheels!
Why, it was only yesterday
My bike had training wheels!
My parents’ said, “You’re ready now.”
“OK,” I said, “I’ll try.”
My daddy ran and held the seat
While mommy said, “Let’s fly!”
I’m peddling really fast now.
The wind is in my hair.
I feel as if I’m flying high
Two-wheeling through the air!
by Author Unknown
- Published on
Do Your Best
Do your best, your very best,
And do it every day.
Little boys and little girls,
That is the wisest way.
Whatever work comes to your hand,
At home or at your school,
Do your best with right good will;
It is the golden rule.
For he who always does his best,
His best will better grow;
But he who shirks or slights his task,
Lets all the better go.
What if your lesson should be hard?
You need not yield to sorrow,
For he who bravely works to-day,
His task grows bright to-morrow.
by Author Unknown
Do your best, your very best,
And do it every day.
Little boys and little girls,
That is the wisest way.
Whatever work comes to your hand,
At home or at your school,
Do your best with right good will;
It is the golden rule.
For he who always does his best,
His best will better grow;
But he who shirks or slights his task,
Lets all the better go.
What if your lesson should be hard?
You need not yield to sorrow,
For he who bravely works to-day,
His task grows bright to-morrow.
by Author Unknown
- Published on
Every Child Should Know a Hill
Every child should know a hill,
And the clean joy of running down its long slope
With the wind in his hair.
He should know a tree . . .
The comfort of its cool lap of shade,
And the supple strength of its arms
Balancing him between earth and sky
So he is a creature of both.
He should know bits of singing water . . .
The strange mysteries of its depths,
And the long sweet grasses that border it.
Every child should know some scrap
Of uninterrupted sky, to shout against;
And have one star, dependable and bright,
For wishing on.
by Edna Casler Joll (1944)
Edna May Joll was born as Edna May Casler on 1 February 1908 in South Dakota, United States of America. She was married to John Kenneth ‘Kenny’ Joll. She became a children’s poetry writer. Edna May Joll passed on at 55 years of age on 25 September 1963 in Ada County, Idaho, United States of America.
Every child should know a hill,
And the clean joy of running down its long slope
With the wind in his hair.
He should know a tree . . .
The comfort of its cool lap of shade,
And the supple strength of its arms
Balancing him between earth and sky
So he is a creature of both.
He should know bits of singing water . . .
The strange mysteries of its depths,
And the long sweet grasses that border it.
Every child should know some scrap
Of uninterrupted sky, to shout against;
And have one star, dependable and bright,
For wishing on.
by Edna Casler Joll (1944)
Edna May Joll was born as Edna May Casler on 1 February 1908 in South Dakota, United States of America. She was married to John Kenneth ‘Kenny’ Joll. She became a children’s poetry writer. Edna May Joll passed on at 55 years of age on 25 September 1963 in Ada County, Idaho, United States of America.
- Published on
Going to Bed
I’m always told to hurry up -
Which I’d be glad to do,
If there were not so many things
That need attending to.
But first I have to find my towel
Which fell behind the rack,
And when a pillow’s thrown at me
I have to throw it back.
And then I have to get the things
I need in bed with me.
Like marbles and my birthday train
And Pete the chimpanzee.
I have to see my polliwog
Is safely in its pan,
And stand a minute on my head
To be quite sure I can.
I have to bounce upon my bed
To see if it will sink,
And then when I am covered up
I find I need a drink.
by Marchette Chute
Marchette Gaylord Chute was born on 16 August 1909 in Wayzata, Minnesota, United States of America. She became a biographer, a fiction writer, and a poet. Marchette Gaylord Chute passed on at 84 years of age on 6 May 1994 in Montclair, New Jersey, United States of America.
I’m always told to hurry up -
Which I’d be glad to do,
If there were not so many things
That need attending to.
But first I have to find my towel
Which fell behind the rack,
And when a pillow’s thrown at me
I have to throw it back.
And then I have to get the things
I need in bed with me.
Like marbles and my birthday train
And Pete the chimpanzee.
I have to see my polliwog
Is safely in its pan,
And stand a minute on my head
To be quite sure I can.
I have to bounce upon my bed
To see if it will sink,
And then when I am covered up
I find I need a drink.
by Marchette Chute
Marchette Gaylord Chute was born on 16 August 1909 in Wayzata, Minnesota, United States of America. She became a biographer, a fiction writer, and a poet. Marchette Gaylord Chute passed on at 84 years of age on 6 May 1994 in Montclair, New Jersey, United States of America.
- Published on
Babies Have so Much to Do
In a world that’s all brand-new,
Babies have so much to do!
Laughing, making funny faces,
Finding out those ticklish places . . .
Cuddling up and wiggling toes,
Looking cute in tiny clothes . . .
Tasting, touching, reaching high,
Crawling under, scooting by . . .
Learning words and having fun . . .
Making memories one by one.
by Author Unknown
In a world that’s all brand-new,
Babies have so much to do!
Laughing, making funny faces,
Finding out those ticklish places . . .
Cuddling up and wiggling toes,
Looking cute in tiny clothes . . .
Tasting, touching, reaching high,
Crawling under, scooting by . . .
Learning words and having fun . . .
Making memories one by one.
by Author Unknown
- Published on
At the Playground
Away down deep and away up high,
a swing drops you into the sky.
Back, it draws you away down deep,
forth, it flings you in a sweep
All the way to the stars and back -
goodbye, Jill; goodbye, Jack;
Shuddering climb wild and steep,
away up high, away down deep.
by William Stafford
William Edgar Stafford was born on 17 January 1914 in Hutchinson, Kansas, United States of America. He became a poet. William Edgar Stafford passed on at 79 years of age on 28 August 1993 in Lake Oswego, Oregon, United States of America.
Away down deep and away up high,
a swing drops you into the sky.
Back, it draws you away down deep,
forth, it flings you in a sweep
All the way to the stars and back -
goodbye, Jill; goodbye, Jack;
Shuddering climb wild and steep,
away up high, away down deep.
by William Stafford
William Edgar Stafford was born on 17 January 1914 in Hutchinson, Kansas, United States of America. He became a poet. William Edgar Stafford passed on at 79 years of age on 28 August 1993 in Lake Oswego, Oregon, United States of America.
- Published on
A Good Boy
I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day,
I never said an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to play.
And now at last the Sun is going down behind the wood,
And I am very happy, for I know that I’ve been good.
My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth and fair,
And I must be off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my prayer.
I know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun arise,
No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight my eyes.
But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn,
And hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the lawn.
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson was born on 13 November 1850 in Edinburgh, Scotland. He became an essayist, a novelist, a travel writer, a poet, and a lyricist. He is known as the author of the adventure novels “Treasure Island” (1883) and “Kidnapped” (1886), the science fiction novel, “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” (1886), and the poetry collection, “A Child’s Garden of Verses” (1885), all of which remain popular even now with readers of all ages. Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson passed on at 44 years of age on 3 December 1894 in Vailima, Samoan Islands.
I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day,
I never said an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to play.
And now at last the Sun is going down behind the wood,
And I am very happy, for I know that I’ve been good.
My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth and fair,
And I must be off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my prayer.
I know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun arise,
No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight my eyes.
But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn,
And hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the lawn.
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson was born on 13 November 1850 in Edinburgh, Scotland. He became an essayist, a novelist, a travel writer, a poet, and a lyricist. He is known as the author of the adventure novels “Treasure Island” (1883) and “Kidnapped” (1886), the science fiction novel, “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” (1886), and the poetry collection, “A Child’s Garden of Verses” (1885), all of which remain popular even now with readers of all ages. Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson passed on at 44 years of age on 3 December 1894 in Vailima, Samoan Islands.
- Published on
I Like to Play Dress-Up
I like to play dress-up,
It’s my favorite thing,
A pocketbook, a high heel,
A fanciful ring.
It may be a date, a party, or prom,
or maybe I want to pretend that I’m mom.
Whoever I am it’s very plain to see,
I like to play dress-up and I like being me.
by Kerrie Wade
I like to play dress-up,
It’s my favorite thing,
A pocketbook, a high heel,
A fanciful ring.
It may be a date, a party, or prom,
or maybe I want to pretend that I’m mom.
Whoever I am it’s very plain to see,
I like to play dress-up and I like being me.
by Kerrie Wade
