|
| |
by
Kobayashi Issa
The snow is melting
The snow is melting
and the village is flooded
with children.
|
by
Kobayashi Issa
Children imitating cormorants
Children imitating cormorants
are even more wonderful
than cormorants.
|
by
Ogden Nash
Grandpa Is Ashamed
A child need not be very clever
To learn that "Later, dear" means "Never."
|
by
Kobayashi Issa
It once happened
It once happened
that a child was spared punishment
through earnest solicitation.
|
by
Ogden Nash
The Parent
Children aren't happy with nothing to ignore,
And that's what parents were created for.
|
by
Robert Herrick
UPON A CHILD
Here a pretty baby lies
Sung asleep with lullabies;
Pray be silent, and not stir
Th' easy earth that covers her.
|
by
Emily Dickinson
Bliss is the plaything of the child --
Bliss is the plaything of the child --
The secret of the man
The sacred stealth of Boy and Girl
Rebuke it if we can
|
by
Carl Sandburg
Slippery
THE SIX month child
Fresh from the tub
Wriggles in our hands.
This is our fish child.
Give her a nickname: Slippery.
|
by
Carl Sandburg
Losses
I HAVE love
And a child,
A banjo
And shadows.
(Losses of God,
All will go
And one day
We will hold
Only the shadows.)
|
by
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THE UNEQUAL MARRIAGE,
EVEN this heavenly pair were unequally match'd when united:
Psyche grew older and wise, Amor remain'd still a child,
1789.*
|
by
A E Housman
The Grizzly Bear
The Grizzly Bear is huge and wild
It has devoured the little child.
The little child is unaware
It has been eaten by the bear.
|
by
Walt Whitman
Offerings.
A THOUSAND perfect men and women appear,
Around each gathers a cluster of friends, and gay children and youths, with offerings.
|
by
Friedrich von Schiller
The Circle Of Nature
All, thou gentle one, lies embraced in thy kingdom; the graybeard
Back to the days of his youth, childish and child-like, returns.
|
by
Robert Louis Stevenson
A Thought
It is very nice to think
The world is full of meat and drink,
With little children saying grace
In every Christian kind of place.
|
by
Robert Louis Stevenson
To Auntie
"Chief of our aunts"--not only I,
But all your dozen of nurselings cry--
"What did the other children do?
And what were childhood, wanting you?"
|
by
Stephen Crane
Tradition, thou art for suckling children
Tradition, thou art for suckling children,
Thou art the enlivening milk for babes;
But no meat for men is in thee.
Then --
But, alas, we all are babes.
|
by
Donald Justice
To A Ten-Months' Child
Late arrival, no
One would think of blaming you
For hesitating so.
Who, setting his hand to knock
At a door so strange as this one,
Might not draw back?
|
by
Stephen Crane
With eye and with gesture
With eye and with gesture
You say you are holy.
I say you lie;
For I did see you
Draw away your coats
From the sin upon the hands
Of a little child.
Liar!
|
by
Carl Sandburg
Cartoon
I AM making a Cartoon of a Woman. She is the People.
She is the Great Dirty Mother.
And Many Children hang on her Apron, crawl at her
Feet, snuggle at her Breasts.
|
by
Robert Herrick
Another Grace For A Child
Here a little child I stand
Heaving up my either hand;
Cold as paddocks though they be,
Here I lift them up to Thee,
For a benison to fall
On our meat, and on us all. Amen.
|
by
Emily Dickinson
I noticed People disappeared
I noticed People disappeared
When but a little child --
Supposed they visited remote
Or settled Regions wild --
But did because they died
A Fact withheld the little child --
|
by
Robert Herrick
GRACE FOR A CHILD
Here, a little child, I stand,
Heaving up my either hand:
Cold as paddocks though they be,
Here I lift them up to thee,
For a benison to fall
On our meat, and on us all.
Amen.
|
by
Robert Herrick
A Child's Grace
HERE a little child I stand
Heaving up my either hand;
Cold as paddocks though they be,
Here I lift them up to Thee,
For a benison to fall
On our meat and on us all. Amen.
|
by
Robert Herrick
UPON A CHILD THAT DIED
Here she lies, a pretty bud,
Lately made of flesh and blood;
Who as soon fell fast asleep,
As her little eyes did peep.
--Give her strewings, but not stir
The earth, that lightly covers her.
|
by
Hilaire Belloc
The Lion
The Lion, the Lion, he dwells in the Waste,
He has a big head and a very small waist;
But his shoulders are stark, and his jaws they are grim,
And a good little child will not play with him.
|
|