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Types of Children's Literature by Edited by Walter Barnes

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Application of the world's knowledge to the world's needs is the
guiding aim of this publishing house, and it is in conformity to this
aim that _Types of Children's Literature_ is published. There is
need of helpful direction for parents and teachers who wish to place
within reach of every child the beauty, wisdom, and knowledge stored
up in the world's best literature for children. The domain is so
vast, so rich, and so varied that a single volume which presents
specimens of all the different types for study and analysis by older
readers and for reading by the children themselves, may hope to make
easy and natural for children the entrance to the pleasant land of


This collection of specimens of children's literature has evolved
itself naturally and, as it were, inevitably out of the editor's
experience in teaching classes in children's literature in normal
school and college, and it is published in the belief that other
teachers of this subject find the same need of such a book that the
editor has experienced. For it is obvious that if we are to conduct
classes in children's literature either for general culture or for
specific training of teachers, we must have specimens of children's
literature readily accessible to the students. We must bring students
to a knowledge and appreciation of any author, period, or type by
having them study representative selections, and this principle
applies as logically to courses in children's literature as to
courses in other kinds of literature.

_Types of Children's Literature_ is intended to provide students
of the subject with a single-volume anthology of prose and poetry
illustrative of the different types, styles, interests, periods,
authors, etc., of writings for children. There are, of course, many
collections of specimens of children's literature; but they are all
made as reading books for children and, consequently, are
unsatisfactory, in some important respect or other, as source books.
Moreover, these collections are published in several volumes and
contain much that is mediocre and trivial. As far as the editor has
been able to discover, there is but a single one-volume collection,
and that collection, having been compiled solely for juvenile
readers, is impracticable as a text for college and normal school
classes. In teaching classes in children's literature the present
editor has had to use, as the only possible text, such sets of
literary readers as the _Heart of Oak_ series or such miniature
libraries as the ten-volume _The Children's Hour_ or the eight-
volume _Children's Classics_. This procedure has been both
expensive and inconvenient for teacher and students, besides not
supplying some of the material desirable in any symmetrical outline
of study.

In compiling the book the editor kept in mind several guiding aims.
Foremost was the wish to include in the collection at least one
selection--and that a masterpiece--of each type and kind of
children's literature in the English language. The different species
of prose and poetry; the various kinds of stories, such as fables,
myths, and fairy stories; the fundamental forms of discourse, such as
narration, description, the sketch, the essay, the oration, letters--
nearly all the molds, so to speak, into which the molten literary
stream has flowed all these types are represented by the choicest
specimens in the range of children's literature.

A careful inspection of the selections in this volume will reveal the
rich variety of the material. Specimens are to be found of folk
literature and modern literature, of the romantic, of the realistic,
of the crude and naive, of the artistic and sophisticated, of the
humorous and the pathetic. The editor has tried to find specimens
presenting as many themes, as many interests, as many emotions as
possible, characteristic specimens of the most important authors for
children, of all the civilizations that have produced literatures
which have become a part of the English-speaking child's heritage.
The collection contains literature for the little child and
literature for the boy or girl in the early 'teens, and it ranges
from primitive times down to this present decade. Moreover, since a
considerable part of the body of children's literature is made up of
original selections made over for children, a few masterpieces of
translations, re-tellings, abridgments, and reproductions have been

The editor hopes that he has allotted a proportionate and equitable
amount of space and emphasis to each type, department, and section of
the collection. He had it in mind, at least, to give as many pages
over to poetry, for example, in proportion to prose, as many pages to
fairy stories, for example, in proportion to myths, as would indicate
roughly the average child's interests. If this proportion is not due
and just, as the editor sometimes fears, it is to be hoped that
critics will realize the web of difficulties in which such a task as
this is entangled.

A word as to the classification and nomenclature. The editor realizes
that this is neither original nor accurate. It is certainly not
scientific, as the types overlap here and there, and the names are
based partly on form and partly on content. But classification and
class names were indispensable in a book of this nature, and it
seemed a better policy to employ the classification and the names
already firmly established in common use than to attempt to subject
to a new system of scientific terms that which is by nature not
amenable to scientific laws and scientific precision. The
classification appears only in the Contents; it does not stand forth
in the book itself.

It should be said, further, that the order in which the different
types are placed in the book is more or less arbitrary, having been
determined largely by the succession in which children take them up
from year to year, beginning with the simpler forms and more childish
themes, and somewhat by the principle of similarity and contrast in
the types themselves. Needless to say, teachers will change the order
in which the species and specimens are studied in accordance with any
well-defined plan of their own.

A distinct service has been rendered, the editor hopes, by presenting
the definitive and authoritative versions of all the selections
given. This has meant a painstaking reading of every line in every
selection and the collation with editions that are trustworthy. Every
student of children's literature knows that it has been almost
impossible to find exact readings, and that most selections have been
distorted and garbled to suit the purposes of editors. No changes
from the originals have here been made except to abridge in a few
instances where it seemed imperative in a book intended for reading
and discussion in classes of both sexes. The editions used and the
changes made are given in the Notes.

The problems involved in selecting the best versions of certain
stories and the best translations from other languages have been
difficult. In general, the editor endeavored to choose the form which
seemed to have the highest literary value. In cases where two
translations seemed to possess equal merit, both are represented.

Every specimen of literature in this collection is a complete unit or
is at least a section easily detached--like an Uncle Remus or an
Arabian Nights story--from its original setting. This principle
precluded the inclusion of extracts from such children's classics as
_Gulliver's Travels_, _Robinson Crusoe_, and _Treasure
Island_. No survey of children's literature is complete without an
examination of such books as these; but they can easily be supplied
in inexpensive editions and used as supplementary to this collection.

It is evident that not every masterpiece of writing for children
could be included in this volume; but it is believed that no
selection has been included that is not a masterpiece. This belief is
based primarily on the fact that most of the specimens have been
chosen and approved by generation after generation of children,
culled out from the light and worthless as by an unerring hand,
through the most pragmatic of tests.

The only distinct type of children's literature not represented in
this collection is the drama, which is omitted because the editor was
not able to find a dramatic unit that would satisfy the ideal he had
in mind: that it be dramatic, that it be literary, that it be brief,
yet complete within itself, and that it be an original selection, not
a dramatization of some classic. For a similar reason no story of
American Indian life was put into the collection, though this
exclusion does not mean the omission of a type of literature. A large
number of Indian stories, both of Indian folklore and myth, and of
adventures with Indians, were carefully read; but not one of them, in
the editor's opinion, came up to the standard of a masterpiece and
was, at the same time, brief enough to be practicable for this book.
Some undoubted masterpieces from literatures lying outside the
recognized circle of the American child's "culture"--such, for
example, as the Japanese folk stories--also have been omitted. Other
splendid specimens of juvenile literature, as stories from Kipling's
_Jungle Books_ and essays from Burroughs, have been omitted
because of copyright restrictions.

No one realizes more clearly than does the editor of this collection
that no single book can include all the material that a class
studying children's literature should have before it. There are
dozens of children's books, for example, that a class should know or
know about. An appendix has therefore been placed at the end of this
collection, which lists the reading indispensable to a student of
children's literature. These books should be in the school library,
easily accessible to the students, and they should be considered as
an integral part of the body of children's literature.

As a compendium of good literature for children it is hoped that this
book may interest parents and teachers, quite independently of the
fact that it was prepared for classes of young men and women studying
children's literature, and that it may be put into the hands of

There remains but the pleasant duty of acknowledging the advice and
encouragement received from many persons interested in this subject.
To the publishing houses who have granted permission to use
copyrighted material and to the Librarian of Congress thanks are due
for courtesies extended. To Mr. David Dale Johnson of West Virginia
University for collating; to Mr. Hunter Whiting for a great deal of
copying and collating; and especially to Professor Franklin T. Baker
of Teachers College, Columbia University, Professor James F. Hosic of
the Chicago Normal College, and Mr. John Cotton Dana of the Newark,
New Jersey, Free Public Library, for advice and criticism on the
manuscript,--to all of these the editor hereby expresses his

W. B.




Little Miss Muffet
Diddle, diddle, dumpling
Let's go to bed
Jack Sprat
There was a little girl

Jack and Jill
Hickory, dickory, dock
There was an old woman
Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater
Little Jack Horner

Old Mother Hubbard
Little Bo-peep
The Babes in the Woods

Old Dan Tucker
Old Man John
We're all in the dumps
I had a little horse

April fool
Johnny's mad
Cry, baby, cry

Peter Piper
Swan swam over the sea

Ickity, pickity
One-ery, two-ery
Inty, minty
Intery, mintery

This little mouse
Here we go up, up, up

A Cherry
A Fodder Field, a Hog, and a Dog
A Churn
An Egg
A Star

There, was a man who had no eyes
I am a gold lock
As I was going to St. Ives

Star of light
Marble, marble, roll away
Honest and true
Come, butter, come
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John
Mole on the neck

Rain before seven
Evening red
When the fog goes up the hill
When the bees all homeward fly

One, two, three, four
Naught, one
In fourteen hundred and ninety-two
Thirty days hath September

Birds of a feather
He that would thrive
Little strokes
See a pin and pick it up
For every evil under the sun

Pease porridge hot
Hot-cross buns


Piping down the valleys wild
The Lamb
Laughing Song

The Wind
The City Mouse and the Garden Mouse
A Flint
The Sisters

The Wind
Windy Nights
The Whole Duty of Children
My Bed Is a Boat
The Land of Counterpane
The Land of Storybooks

If I Were a Sunbeam
The Rivulet
The Brown Thrush

Meddlesome Matty
The Violet
The Star
The Way to be Happy

Against Idleness and Mischief
A Morning Song
A Cradle Hymn

You Are Old, Father William
The Walrus and the Carpenter

There was an Old Man of the West
There was an Old Man with a beard
There was an Old Person of Dean
There was a Young Lady whose chin
There is a Young Lady whose nose
The Owl and the Pussy-Cat
The Jumblies


Bonny Barbara Allan
Sir Patrick Spence
Robin Hood and Allin a Dale
Kinmont Willie

The Wreck of the Hesperus, _Longfellow_
La Belle Dame sans Merci, _Keats_
Lord Ullin's Daughter, _Campbell_
Young Lochinvar, _Scott_
How They Brought the Good News, _Browning_
The Revenge, _Tennyson_


America, _Smith_
My Native Land, _Scott_
Columbus, _Miller_
Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, _Hemans_
Concord Hymn, _Emerson_
Old Ironsides, _Holmes_
O Captain! My Captain!, _Whitman_

To Lucasta, _Lovelace_
She Walks in Beauty, _Byron_
A Red, Red Rose, _Burns_

The Greenwood Tree, _Shakespeare_
A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea, _Cunningham_
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud, _Wordsworth_
The Rhodora, _Emerson_
To the Fringed Genlian, _Bryant_
The Eagle, _Tennyson_
On the Grasshopper and Cricket, _Keats_

To a Waterfowl, _Bryant_
The Chambered Nautilus, _Holmes_
The Bugle Song, _Tennyson_

The Noble Nature, _Jonson_
The Character of a Happy Life, _Wotton_
Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth, _Clough_
For A' That and A' That, _Burns_
Invictus, _Henley_
Opportunity, _Sill_
A Psalm of Life, _Longfellow_




The Dog and the Shadow, _Æsop_
The Fox and the Grapes, _Æsop_
The Hare and the Tortoise, _Æsop_
The Shepherd's Boy, _Æsop_
The Husbandman and the Stork, _Æsop_
The Wind and the Sun, _Æsop_
The Tortoise and the Geese, _Bidpai_
The Partridge and the Crow, _Bidpai_
The Fox and the Grapes, _La Fontaine_
The Wolf and the Stork, _La Fontaine_



The Old Woman and Her Pig, _Jacobs_

The Three Little Pigs, _Jacobs_

Hans in Luck, _Grimm_

The Valiant Little Tailor, _Grimm_
Cinderella, _Perrault_
Whittington and His Cat, _Old Chapbook_

The Ugly Duckling, _Andersen_
The Flax, _Andersen_

Blue Beard, _Perrault_

Jack and the Beanstalk, _Jacobs_

The Elves, _Grimm_
Te Frog-Prince, _Grimm_
The Quern at the Bottom of the Sea, _Asbjørnsen_

Brother Rabbit and Brother Bull-Frog, _Harris_

Brownie and the Cook, _Craik_
The King of the Golden River, _Ruskin_

The Story of Aladdin, Arabian Nights


The Gorgon's Head, _Hawthorne_
Theseus, _Kingsley_

Thor Goes a-Fishing, _Mabie_
Baldur, _Keary-Morss_

Sir William Wallace, _Scott_

The Tempest, _Shakespeare-Lamb_

The Purple Jar, _Edgeworth_
Difference and Agreement, _Aiken and Barbauld_
Eyes and No Eyes, _Aiken and Barbauld_

Rab and His Friends, _Brown_
The Busy Blue Jay, _Miller_
A Cry in the Night, _Long_

The Story of Joseph
The Story of Samson
David's Psalms: First, Nineteenth, Twenty-third
Christ's Sermon on the Mount
Paul's Discourse on Charity


Lewis Carroll to Miss Standen
Thomas Hood to Miss Elliot
Charles Dickens to Master Hughes

Traits of Indian Character, _Irving_
Of Studies, _Bacon_
The American Boy, _Roosevelt_

Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death, _Henry_
Supposed Speech of John Adams, _Webster_
Gettysburg Address, _Lincoln_






Little Miss Muffet
Sat on a tuffet,
Eating of curds and whey;
Along came a spider
And sat down beside her,
Which frightened Miss Muffet away.

* * * * *

Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John
Went to bed with his stockings on;
One shoe off, the other shoe on,
Diddle, diddle, dumpling, my son John.

* * * * *

"Let's go to bed,"
Says Sleepy-head;
"Let's stay awhile," says Slow;
"Put on the pot,"
Says Greedy-sot,
"We'll sup before we go."

* * * * *

Jack Sprat could eat no fat,
His wife could eat no lean:
And so betwixt them both, you see,
They licked the platter clean.

* * * * *

There was a little girl,
And she had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead;
When she was good,
She was very, very good;
But when she was bad--she was horrid.

[Footnote: Attributed to Longfellow.]

* * * * *

Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water;
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Jill came tumbling after.

* * * * *

Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one,
And down he run,
Hickory, dickory, dock

* * * * *

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe;
She had so many children she didn't know what to do.
She gave them some broth without any bread,
And whipped them all soundly and put them to bed.

* * * * *

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,
Had a wife and couldn't keep her.
He put her in a pumpkin shell,
And there he kept her very well.

* * * * *

Little Jack Horner
Sat in a corner,
Eating a Christmas pie:
He put in his thumb
And pulled out a plum
And said, "What a good boy am I!"

* * * * *

Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get her poor dog a bone;
But when she got there,
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.

She went to the baker's
To buy him some bread;
And when she came back,
The poor dog was dead.

She went to the joiner's
To buy him a coffin;
And when she came back,
The doggy was laughin'.

She went to the butcher's
To buy him some tripe;
And when she came back,
He was smoking his pipe.

She went to the hatter's
To buy him a hat;
And when she came back,
He was feeding the cat.

She went to the barber's
To buy him a wig;
And when she came back,
He was dancing a jig.

She went to the tailor's
To buy him a coat;
And when she came back,
He was riding a goat.

She went to the cobbler's
To buy him some shoes;
And when she came back,
He was reading the news.

* * * * *

Little Bo-peep
She lost her sheep,
And couldn't tell where to find them.
"Let them alone
And they'll come home,
Wagging their tails behind them."

Little Bo-peep
Fell fast asleep
And dreamt she heard them bleating,
But when she awoke,
She found it a joke,
For still they all were fleeting.

Then up she took
Her little crook,
Determined for to find them.

She found them indeed,
But it made her heart bleed,--
For they'd left their tails behind them.

* * * * *

My dear, do you know
A long time ago
Two poor little children,
Whose names I don't know,
Were taken away on a bright summer day
And left in the woods, as I've heard people say.

And when it was night,
How sad was their plight!
The sun it went down
And the stars hid their light.
They sobbed and they sighed and sadly they cried,
Till the poor little things at last lay down and died.

And when they were dead,
The robins so red
Brought beech and oak leaves
And over them spread.
And all the day long, the branches among,
They sang to them softly, and this was their song:
"Poor babes in the woods, poor babes in the woods,
Oh, who will come find the poor babes in the woods?"

* * * * *

Old Dan Tucker was a fine old man;
He washed his face in a frying pan,
He combed his hair with a wagon wheel,
And died with the toothache in his heel.

* * * * *

Old Man John sitting down by the spring;
He's a Jew, he's a ring,
He's a many pretty thing.
He's a hammer with nine nails,
He's a cat with nine tails.
Whip jack, spur Tom,
Blow the bellows for Old Man John.

* * * * *

We're all in the dumps,
For diamonds are trumps;
The kittens are gone to St. Paul's;
The babies are bit,
The moon's in a fit,
And the houses are built without walls.

* * * * *

I had a little horse, his name was Dapple Gray;
His legs were made of cornstalks, his body made of hay.
I saddled him and bridled him and rode him off to town;
Up came a puff of wind, and blew him up and down.
The saddle flew off, and I let go,--
Now didn't my horse make a pretty little show?

* * * * *

Georgy-porgy, pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
When the boys came out to play,
Georgy-porgy ran away.

* * * * *

April fool, go to school,
Sit on a two-legged stool.
Too wise you are, too wise you be;
You are not too wise for me.

* * * * *

Johnny's mad, and I am glad,
And I know what will please him:
A bottle of wine to make him shine,
And Mary Jones to squeeze him.

* * * * *

Cry, baby, cry,
Stick your finger in your eye
And tell your mother 'twasn't I.

* * * * *

Your tongue shall be slit,
And all the dogs about the town
Shall have a little bit.

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,
A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked.
If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,
Where is the peck of peppers Peter Piper picked?

* * * * *

Swan swam over the sea,
Swim, swan, swim;
Swan swam back again,
Well swum, swan.

* * * * *

Ickity, pickity, ally gadaw,
Dicks, do, ally gamaw,
Okus, pokus, pelly gaw,

* * * * *

One-ery, two-ery, three-ery, thum,
Backsley, Billy, Nicholas, Bum,
One-a-tirry, Dick and Sirry,
Pot ban, riddle man,
Link, Pink, Sink.

* * * * *

Inly, minly, dibbity fig,
Delia, Dolia, dominig,
Otcha, potcha, dominotcha,
Ella Bella boo,
Out goes you.

* * * * *

Intery, mintery, cutery corn,
Apple seed and apple thorn,
Wire, brier, limber lock,
Three geese in a flock;
Along came Tod,
With his long rod,
And scared them all to Migly-wod.
One flew east, one flew west,
One flew over the cuckoo's nest.--
Make your way home, Jack.

* * * * *

Trit-trot, trit-trot,
To buy a penny cake;
Home again, home again,
I met a black-snake.
Pick up a stone
And breaky backy-bone
Trit-trot, trit-trot
All the way home.

* * * * *

Hippity--hop to the barber shop,
To buy a stick of candy;
One for you, and one for me,
And one for Brother Andy.

* * * * *

This little mouse got caught in a trap,
And this little mouse she heard it snap,
This little mouse did loudly squeak out,
And this little mouse did run all about,
This little mouse said, "Do not bewail
And let us take hold and pull him out by the tail."

[Footnote: Recited on the baby's fingers or toes.]

* * * * *

Here we go up, up, up,
Here we go down, down, down-y;
Here we go up, and here we go down,
And here we go round, round, round-y.

* * * * *

As I went through the garden gap,
Whom should I meet but Dick Red-cap,--
A stick in his hand,
A stone in his throat,--
If you'll tell me this riddle,
I'll give you a gold fiddle.
(A cherry)

* * * * *

One day I went to my whirly-whicker-whacker, (Fodder field)
I met bow-backer, (A hog)
I called Tom-tacker (A dog)
To drive bow-backer
Out of my whirly-whicker-whacker.

* * * * *

One day I went to Body-tot,
I met three ladies in a trot,
With green heads and yellow toes,--
If you don't tell me this riddle I'll burn your nose.

* * * * *

Big at the bottom and little at the top,
A thing in the middle goes flippety-flop.
(A churn)

* * * * *

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall;
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again.
(An egg)

* * * * *

I have a little sister, she's called Peep-peep;
She wades the waters deep, deep, deep;
She climbs the mountains high, high, high,--
Poor little thing, she has but one eye.
(A star)

* * * * *

There was a man who had no eyes,
He went abroad to view the skies;
He saw a tree with apples on it,
He took no apples off, yet left no apples on it.

(The man had _one_ eye, and the tree had _two_ apples on it.)

* * * * *

(The following catch depends upon the second child repeating the exact
words of the first, except that he changes "lock" to "key.")

1. I am a gold lock.
2. I am a gold key.
1. I am a silver lock,
2. I am a silver key.
1. I am a brass lock,
2. I am a brass key.
1. I am a monk lock.
2. I am a monk-key.

* * * * *

As I was _going_ to St. Ives,
I _met_ a man with seven wives;
Each wife had seven sacks,
Each sack had seven cats,
Each sack had seven kits,--
Kits, cats, sacks, and wives,
How many were _going_ to St. Ives?

* * * * *

Star of light, so bright, so bright,
'Tis the first star I've seen tonight;
I wish I may, I wish I might
Have the wish I wish tonight.

* * * * *

Marble, marble, roll away,
Go find your brother;
Marble, marble, come back home,
Bring me another.

[Footnote: If you have lost a marble, take another marble and roll it
toward the place you lost the first one, repeating this charm. You
will find the lost one near the second marble.]

* * * * *

Honest and true, black and blue,
You may take your knife and cut me in two.
(An oath)

* * * * *

Come, butter, come,
Come, butter, come;
Johnny stands at the gate,
Waiting for a butter cake,--
Come, butter, come.

* * * * *

Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John
Guard the bed that I lie on;
One to watch and one to pray,
And two to bear my soul away.

* * * * *

Mole on the neck,
Money by the peck.

* * * * *

Rain before seven,
Quit before eleven.

* * * * *

Evening red and morning gray
Sets the traveler on his way;
Evening gray and morning red,
Brings down rain upon his head.

* * * * *

When the fog goes up the hill,
Then the rain comes down by the mill.

* * * * *

When the bees all homeward fly,
Flowers will not long be dry.

* * * * *

1, 2, 3, 4,
Mary at the cottage door;
5, 6, 7, 8,
Eating cherries off a plate.

* * * * *

Naught, one,
Work is done;
Two, three,
Four, five,
Ducks are alive;
Six, seven,
Stars shine up in heaven;
Eight, nine,
Queen, Queen Caroline,
Wash your face in turpentine,
Monkey-shine, monkey-shine,
Queen, Queen Caroline.

* * * * *

In fourteen hundred and ninety-two
Columbus sailed the ocean blue.

* * * * *

Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November;
All the rest have thirty-one,
Excepting February alone,
Which has twenty-eight in line,
Till leap-year gives it twenty-nine.

* * * * *

Birds of a feather
Flock together.

* * * * *

He that would thrive
Must rise at five;
He that has thriven
May rise at seven.

* * * * *

Little strokes
Fell great oaks.

* * * * *

See a pin and pick it up,
All the day you'll have good luck.
See a pin and let it lay,
You'll have bad luck all the day.

* * * * *

For every evil under the sun,
There is a remedy, or there is none;
If there be one, try and find it,
If there be none, never mind it.

* * * * *

Pease porridge hot,
Pease porridge cold,
Pease porridge in the pot,
Nine days old.

Some like it hot,
Some like it cold,
Some like it in the pot,
Nine days old.

* * * * *

Hot-cross buns,
Hot-cross buns,
One a penny, two a penny,
Hot-cross buns.

Hot-cross buns,
Hot-cross buns,
If you have no daughters,
Give them to your sons.


William Blake


Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:--

"Pipe a song about a lamb:"
So I piped with merry cheer.
"Piper, pipe that song again:"
So I piped: he wept to hear.

"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe,
Sing thy songs of happy cheer!"
So I sang the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.

"Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book, that all may read--"
So he vanished from my sight;
And I plucked a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs
Every child may joy to hear.


Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee,
Gave thee life and bade thee feed
By the stream and o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing, woolly, bright,
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice?
Little lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?

Little lamb, I'll tell thee;
Little lamb, I'll tell thee.
He is called by thy name,
For He calls himself a Lamb.
He is meek, and He is mild;
He became a little child.
I a child, and thou a lamb,
We are called by His name.
Little lamb, God bless thee!
Little lamb, God bless thee!


When the green wood laughs with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;

When the meadows laugh with lively green,
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene;
When Mary, and Susan, and Emily
With their sweet round mouths sing, "Ha ha he!"

When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
When our table with cherries and nuts is spread;
Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of "Ha ha he!"



Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I
But when the leaves hang trembling
The wind is passing by.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I
But when the trees bow down their heads
The wind is passing by.


The city mouse lives in a house;--
The garden mouse lives in a bower,
He's friendly with the frogs and toads,
And sees the pretty plants in flower.
The city mouse eats bread and cheese;--
The garden mouse eats what he can;
We will not grudge him seeds and stalks,
Poor little timid furry man.


Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Flowers are closed and lambs are sleeping;
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Stars are up, the moon is peeping;
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
While the birds are silence keeping,
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Sleep, my baby, fall a-sleeping,
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!


Sing me a song--
What shall I sing?--
Three merry sisters
Dancing in a ring,
Light and fleet upon their feet
As birds upon the wing.

Tell me a tale--
What shall I tell?--
Two mournful sisters,
And a tolling knell,
Tolling ding and tolling dong,
Ding dong bell.



I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies' skirts across the grass--
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all--
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!

O you that are so strong and cold!
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?
O wind, a-blowing all day long,
O wind, that sings so loud a song!


Whenever the moon and stars are set,
Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?

Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
By at the gallop goes he;
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again.


A child should always say what's true
And speak when he is spoken to,
And behave mannerly at table;
At least as far as he is able.


My bed is like a little boat;
Nurse helps me in when I embark;
She girds me in my sailor's coat
And starts me in the dark.

At night, I go on board and say
Good night to all my friends on shore;
I shut my eyes and sail away,
And see and hear no more.

And sometimes things to bed I take,
As prudent sailors have to do;
Perhaps a slice of wedding cake,
Perhaps a toy or two.

All night across the dark we steer;
But when the day returns at last,
Safe in my room, beside the pier,
I find my vessel fast.


When I was sick and lay abed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay
To keep me happy all the day.

And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bedclothes, through the hills;

And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.

I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.


At evening when the lamp is lit,
Around the fire my parents sit;
They sit at home and talk and sing,
And do not play at anything.

Now, with my little gun, I crawl
All in the dark along the wall,
And follow round the forest track
Away behind the sofa back.

There, in the night, where none can spy,
All in my hunter's camp I lie,
And play at books that I have read
Till it is time to go to bed.

These are the hills, these are the woods,
These are my starry solitudes;
And there the river by whose brink
The roaring lions come to drink.

I see the others far away
As if in firelit camp they lay,
And I, like to an Indian scout,
Around their party prowled about.

So, when my nurse comes in for me,
Home I return across the sea,
And go to bed with backward looks
At my dear Land of Storybooks.



"If I were a sunbeam,
I know what I'd do;
I would seek white lilies,
Rainy woodlands through.
I would steal among them,
Softest light I'd shed,
Until every lily
Raised its drooping head.

"If I were a sunbeam,
I know where I'd go;
Into lowliest hovels,
Dark with want and woe:
Till sad hearts looked upward,
I would shine and shine;
Then they'd think of heaven,
Their sweet home and mine."

Art thou not a sunbeam,
Child, whose life is glad
With an inner radiance
Sunshine never had?
O, as God hath blessed thee,
Scatter rays divine!
For there is no sunbeam
But must die or shine.


Run, little rivulet, run!
Summer is fairly begun.
Bear to the meadow the hymn of the pines,
And the echo that rings where the waterfall shines;
Run, little rivulet, run!

Run, little rivulet, run!
Sing to the fields of the sun
That wavers in emerald, shimmers in gold,
Where you glide from your rocky ravine, crystal cold;
Run, little rivulet, run!

Run, little rivulet, run!
Sing of the flowers, every one,--
Of the delicate harebell and violet blue;
Of the red mountain rosebud, all dripping with dew;
Run, little rivulet, run!

Run, little rivulet, run!
Carry the perfume you won
From the lily, that woke when the morning was gray,
To the white waiting moonbeam adrift on the bay;
Run, little rivulet, run!

Run, little rivulet, run!
Stay not till summer is done!
Carry the city the mountain birds' glee;
Carry the joy of the hills to the sea;
Run, little rivulet, run!


There's a merry brown thrush sitting up in the tree.
He's singing to me! He's singing to me!
And what does he say, little girl, little boy?
"Oh, the world's running over with joy!
Don't you hear? Don't you see?
Hush! Look! In my tree
I'm as happy as happy can be!"

And the brown thrush keeps singing, "A nest do you see,
And five eggs, hid by me in the juniper tree?
Don't meddle! Don't touch! little girl, little boy,
Or the world will lose some of its joy!
Now I'm glad! now I'm free!
And I always shall be,
If you never bring sorrow to me."

So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree,
To you and to me, to you and to me;
And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy,
"Oh, the world's running over with joy!
But long it won't be,
Don't you know? don't you see?
Unless we are as good as can be!"



One ugly trick has often spoiled
The sweetest and the best:
Matilda, though a pleasant child,
One grievous fault possessed,
Which, like a cloud before the skies,
Hid all her better qualities.

Sometimes she'd lift the teapot lid
To peep at what was in it;
Or tilt the kettle, if you did
But turn your back a minute.
In vain you told her not to touch,
Her trick of meddling grew so much.

Her grandmamma went out one day
And by mistake she laid
Her spectacles and snuffbox gay
Too near the little maid.
"Ah! well," thought she, "I'll try them on
As soon as grandmamma is gone."

Forthwith she placed upon her nose
The glasses large and wide;
And looking round, as I suppose,
The snuffbox too she spied:
"Oh! what a pretty box is that;
I'll open it," said little Matt.

"I know that grandmamma would say,
'Don't meddle with it, dear';
But then, she's far enough away,
And no one else is near.
Besides, what can there be amiss
In opening such a box as this?"

So thumb and finger went to work
To move the stubborn lid,
And presently a mighty jerk
The mighty mischief did;
For all at once, ah! woeful case.
The snuff came puffing in her face.

Poor eyes and nose and mouth, beside,
A dismal sight presented;
In vain, as bitterly she cried,
Her folly she repented;
In vain she ran about for ease,
She could do nothing now but sneeze.

She dashed the spectacles away
To wipe her tingling eyes,
And as in twenty bits they lay,
Her grandmamma she spies.
"Heyday! and what's the matter now?"
Says grandmamma with lifted brow.

Matilda, smarting with the pain,
And tingling still, and sore,
Made many a promise to refrain
From meddling evermore.
And 'tis a fact, as I have heard,
She ever since has kept her word.


Down in a green and shady bed
A modest violet grew,
Its stalk was bent, it hung its head,
As if to hide from view.

And yet it was a lovely flower,
Its color bright and fair;
It might have graced a rosy bower
Instead of hiding there.

Yet there it was content to bloom,
In modest tints arrayed;
And there diffused a sweet perfume
Within the silent shade.--

Then let me to the valley go
This pretty flower to see,
That I may also learn to grow
In sweet humility.


Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveler in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark!
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.

In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye
Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.


How pleasant it is at the end of the day,
No follies to have to repent,

But reflect on the past and be able to say,
My time has been properly spent!

When I've done all my business with patience and care,
And been good, and obliging, and kind,
I lie on my pillow and sleep away there,
With a happy and peaceable mind.

Instead of all this, if it must be confest,
That I careless and idle have been,
I lie down as usual, and go to my rest,
But feel discontented within.

Then as I dislike all the trouble I've had,
In future I'll try to prevent it,
For I never am naughty without being sad,
Or good--without being contented.



How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!

How skillfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads her wax!
And labors hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.

In works of labor or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.

In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past,
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.


My God, who makes the sun to know
His proper hour to rise,
And to give light to all below,
Doth send him round the skies.

When from the chambers of the east
His morning race begins,
He never tires, nor stops to rest,
But round the world he shines.

So, like the sun, would I fulfill
The business of the day:
Begin my work betimes, and still
March on my heavenly way.

Give me, O Lord, thy early grace,
Nor let my soul complain
That the young morning of my days
Has all been spent in vain.


Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber!
Holy angels guard thybed!
Heavenly blessings without number
Gently falling on thy head.

Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment,
House and home, thy friends provide;
All without thy care or payment,
All thy wants are well supplied.

How much better thou'rt attended
Than the Son of God could be,
When from heaven He descended,
And became a child like thee!

Soft and easy is thy cradle;
Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay,
When His birthplace was a stable,
And His softest bed was hay.

Lo, He slumbers in His manger,
Where the horned oxen fed;
Peace, my darling, here's no danger,
Here's no ox a-near thy bed.

Mayst thou live to know and fear Him,
Trust and love Him all thy days;
Then go dwell forever near Him,
See His face, and sing His praise!



'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimbel in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought--
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

"And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O Frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimbel in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.


"You are old, father William," the young man said
"And your hair has become very white;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head--
Do you think, at your age, it is right?"

"In my youth," father William replied to his son,
"I feared it might injure the brain;
But now that I'm perfectly sure I have none,
Why, I do it again and again."

"You are old," said the youth, "as I mentioned before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door--
Pray, what is the reason of that?"

"In my youth," said the sage, as he shook his gray locks,
"I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment--one shilling the box--
Allow me to sell you a couple?"

"You are old," said the youth, "and your jaws are too weak
For anything tougher than suet;
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the beak--
Pray, how did you manage to do it?"

"In my youth," said his father, "I took to the law,
And argued each case with my wife;
And the muscular strength which it gave to my jaw
Has lasted the rest of my life."

"You are old," said the youth; "one would hardly suppose
That your eye was as steady as ever;
Yet you balanced an eel on the end of your nose--
What made you so awfully clever?"

"I have answered three questions, and that is enough,"
Said his father; "don't give yourself airs!
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I'll kick you downstairs!"


The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might;
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright--
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done--
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky;
No birds were flying overhead--
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand--
"If this were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be grand!"

"If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
"That they could get it clear?"
"I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

"O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
The Walrus did beseech.
"A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach;
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each."

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said;
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head--
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the Oyster bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat;
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat--
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more--
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low--
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

"But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
"Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!"
"No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

"A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
"Is what we chiefly need;
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed--
Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed."

"But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
"After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"The night is fine!" the Walrus said.
"Do you admire the view?

"It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!"
The Carpenter said nothing but,
"Cut us another slice.
I wish you were not quite so deaf--
I've had to ask you twice!"

"It seems a shame," the Walrus said.
"To play them such a trick,
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!"
The Carpenter said nothing but,
"The butter's spread too thick!"

"I weep for you," the Walrus said;
"I deeply sympathize."

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