By Ada M. Skinner, Frances Gillespy Wickes, Maud Petersham, Miska Petersham
Moment quantity of A kid's personal publication of Verse, a three-volume set deliberate to be used through the 4 fundamental years. This strangely effective selection of poetry was once chosen with the kid's pursuits in brain. contains sound rhymes and jingles to entice the ear, descriptive poems to create photos within the imagination, lullabies and lyrics to hot the center, and story-telling poems to stir the mind's eye. Attractively illustrated via Maud and Miska Petersham.
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Additional resources for A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Two
Out in the stable her sea horse Champs in his crystal stall, And fishes with scales that glisten Come leaping forth at her call. So the little princess Is busy and happy all day Just as the human children Are busy and happy at play. And when the darkness gathers Over the lonely deep, On a bed of velvet seaweed The princess is rocked to sleep. Queen Mab A little fairy comes at night, Her eyes are blue, her hair is brown, With silver spots upon her wings, And from the moon she flutters down. She has a little silver wand, And when a good child goes to bed She waves her wand from right to left, And makes a circle round its head.
But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair; For, high In the sky, With her one white eye, Motionless, miles above the air, She had never heard the great Wind blare. " said he. ' And therefore sit I here," said she. " said he. "Because that I am sad," said she. "For when the king came riding by, And all the people raised a cry, I was so small I could not see; And therefore do I weep," said she. "Then weep no more, my lass," said he. " said she. "Lift up your eyes of bonnie blue, And look and look me through and through; Nor say the king you could not see.
Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, When he goes through the town. So when you hear the sandman's song Sound through the twilight sweet, Be sure you do not keep him long Awaiting on the street. Lie softly down, dear little head; Rest quiet, busy hands, Till by your bed, his good night said, He strews the shining sands. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, When he goes through the town. —MARGARET VANDEGRIFT London Wind The wind blows, the wind blows, Over the ocean far, But oh!
A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Two by Ada M. Skinner, Frances Gillespy Wickes, Maud Petersham, Miska Petersham