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Poems Every Child Should Know

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<h3>A Boy's Song</h3> <div class="pre_poem">"A Boy's Song," by James Hogg (1770-1835), is a sparkling poem, very attractive to children. </div> <table class="poem" summary="poem"><tr><td><div class="stanza"> Where the pools are bright and deep, Where the gray trout lies asleep, Up the river and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me. </div> <div class="stanza"> Where the blackbird sings the latest, Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest, Where the nestlings chirp and flee, That's the way for Billy and me. </div> <div class="stanza"> Where the mowers mow the cleanest, Where the hay lies thick and greenest, There to trace the homeward bee, That's the way for Billy and me. </div> <div class="stanza"> Where the hazel bank is steepest, Where the shadow falls the deepest, Where the clustering nuts fall free. That's the way for Billy and me. </div> <div class="stanza"> Why the boys should drive away, Little sweet maidens from the play, Or love to banter and fight so well, That's the thing I never could tell. </div> <div class="stanza"> But this I know, I love to play, Through the meadow, among the hay; Up the water and o'er the lea, That's the way for Billy and me. </div> </td></tr></table> James Hogg. <h3>Buttercups and Daisies.</h3> <table class="poem" summary="poem"><tr><td><div class="stanza"> Buttercups and daisies, Oh, the pretty flowers, Coming ere the spring time, To tell of sunny hours. While the tree are leafless, While the fields are bare, Buttercups and daisies Spring up here and there. </div> <div class="stanza"> Ere the snowdrop peepeth, Ere the crocus bold, Ere the early primrose Opes its paly gold, Somewhere on the sunny bank Buttercups are bright; Somewhere 'mong the frozen grass Peeps the daisy white. </div> <div class="stanza"> Little hardy flowers, Like to children poor, Playing in their sturdy health By their mother's door, Purple with the north wind, Yet alert and bold; Fearing not, and caring not, Though they be a-cold! </div> <div class="stanza"> What to them is winter! What are stormy showers! Buttercups and daisies Are these human flowers! He who gave them hardships And a life of care, Gave them likewise hardy strength And patient hearts to bear. </div> </td></tr></table> Mary Howitt. <h3>The Rainbow.</h3> <table class="poem" summary="poem"><tr><td><div class="stanza"> Triumphal arch, that fills the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art. </div> <div class="stanza"> Still seem, as to my childhood's sight, A midway station given, For happy spirits to alight, Betwixt the earth and heaven. </div> </td></tr></table> Thomas Campbell. <h3>Old Ironsides.</h3> <div class="pre_poem">"Old Ironsides," by Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-94), is learned readily. Children are untouched by the commercial spirit which is the reproach of this age. "Ingratitude is the vice of republics," and this poem puts to shame the love of money and the spirit of ingratitude that could let a national servant become a wreck. </div> <table class="poem" summary="poem"><tr><td><div class="stanza"> Ay, tear her tattered ensign down! Long has it waved on high, And many an eye has danced to see That banner in the sky; Beneath it rung the battle shout, And burst the cannon's roar;— The meteor of the ocean air Shall sweep the clouds no more. </div> <div class="stanza"> Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, Where knelt the vanquished foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood And waves were white below. No more shall feel the victor's tread, Or know the conquered knee; The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea! </div> <div class="stanza"> O, better that her shattered hulk Should sink beneath the wave; Her thunders shook the mighty deep, And there should be her grave; Nail to the mast her holy flag, Set every threadbare sail, And give her to the god of storms, The lightning and the gale! </div> </td></tr></table> Oliver Wendell Holmes. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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