By Ada M. Skinner, Frances Gillespy Wickes, Maud Petersham, Miska Petersham
First quantity of A kid's personal booklet of Verse, a three-volume set deliberate to be used in the course of the 4 basic years. This strangely nice number of poetry used to be chosen with the kid's pursuits in brain. comprises sound rhymes and jingles to entice the ear, descriptive poems to create pictures within the imagination, lullabies and lyrics to hot the guts, and story-telling poems to stir the mind's eye. Attractively illustrated by way of Maud and Miska Petersham. appropriate for a while five to eight.
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Additional info for A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book One
London Bridge London bridge is broken down, Dance over, my Lady Lee; London bridge is broken down, With a gay lady. How shall we build it up again? Dance over, my Lady Lee; How shall we build it up again? With a gay lady. Build it up with silver and gold, Dance over, my Lady Lee; Build it up with silver and gold, With a gay lady. Silver and gold will be stolen away, Dance over, my Lady Lee; Silver and gold will be stolen away, With a gay lady. Build it up again with iron and steel, Dance over, my Lady Lee; Build it up with iron and steel, With a gay lady.
And when they creep into Baby's eyes, Why, there the sunbeams are; And when they peep through her rosy lips, Her laughter rings near and far. " So, Lemuel Laugh and Samuel Smile, Come in, my dears, and tarry awhile! —LAURA E. " Three Little Owlets Three little owlets In a hollow tree, Cuddled up together Close as could be. When the moon came out And the dew lay wet, Mother flew about To see what she could get. She caught a little mouse, So velvety and soft, She caught some little sparrows, And then she flew aloft To the three little owlets In a hollow tree, Cuddled up together Close as could be.
Are the feathered caps all right? Are the young wings strong and steady For their flight to warmer sky? Come again in early springtime. Until then, good-by, good-by. Seven Times One There's no dew left on the daisies and clover There's no rain left in heaven: I've said my "seven times" over and over, Seven times one are seven. I am old, so old, I can write a letter; My birthday lessons are done; The lambs play always, they know no better; They are only one times one. O moon! in the night I have seen you sailing And shining so round and low; You were bright!
A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book One by Ada M. Skinner, Frances Gillespy Wickes, Maud Petersham, Miska Petersham