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Poems Every Child Should Know

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<h3>The Sandpiper.</h3> <div class="pre_poem">"The Sandpiper," by Celia Thaxter (1836-94), is placed here because a goodly percentage of the children who read it want to learn it. </div> <table class="poem" summary="poem"><tr><td><div class="stanza"> Across the lonely beach we flit, One little sandpiper and I, And fast I gather, bit by bit, The scattered driftwood, bleached and dry. The wild waves reach their hands for it, The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, As up and down the beach we flit, One little sandpiper and I. </div> <div class="stanza"> Above our heads the sullen clouds Scud, black and swift, across the sky; Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds Stand out the white lighthouses high. Almost as far as eye can reach I see the close-reefed vessels fly, As fast we flit along the beach, One little sandpiper and I. </div> <div class="stanza"> I watch him as he skims along, Uttering his sweet and mournful cry; He starts not at my fitful song, Nor flash of fluttering drapery. He has no thought of any wrong, He scans me with a fearless eye; Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong, The little sandpiper and I. </div> <div class="stanza"> Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night, When the loosed storm breaks furiously? My driftwood fire will burn so bright! To what warm shelter canst thou fly? I do not fear for thee, though wroth The tempest rushes through the sky; For are we not God's children both, Thou, little sandpiper, and I? </div> </td></tr></table> Celia Thaxter. <h3>Lady Clare.</h3> <div class="pre_poem">Girls always love "Lady Clare" and "The Lord of Burleigh." They like to think that it is enough to be a splendid woman without title or wealth. They want to be loved, if they are loved at all, for their good hearts and graces of mind. Tennyson (1809-92) makes this point repeatedly through his poems. </div> <table class="poem" summary="poem"><tr><td><div class="stanza"> It was the time when lilies blow And clouds are highest up in air; Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe To give his cousin, Lady Clare. </div> <div class="stanza"> I trow they did not part in scorn: Lovers long-betroth'd were they: They too will wed the morrow morn: God's blessing on the day! </div> <div class="stanza"> "He does not love me for my birth, Nor for my lands so broad and fair; He loves me for my own true worth, And that is well," said Lady Clare. </div> <div class="stanza"> In there came old Alice the nurse; Said: "Who was this that went from thee?" "It was my cousin," said Lady Clare; "To-morrow he weds with me." </div> <div class="stanza"> "O God be thank'd!" said Alice the nurse, "That all comes round so just and fair: Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands, And you are not the Lady Clare." </div> <div class="stanza"> "Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my nurse," Said Lady Clare, "that ye speak so wild?" "As God's above," said Alice the nurse, "I speak the truth: you are my child. </div> <div class="stanza"> "The old Earl's daughter died at my breast; I speak the truth, as I live by bread! I buried her like my own sweet child, And put my child in her stead." </div> <div class="stanza"> "Falsely, falsely have ye done, O mother," she said, "if this be true, To keep the best man under the sun So many years from his due." </div> <div class="stanza"> "Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, "But keep the secret all ye can." She said: "Not so: but I will know If there be any faith in man." </div> <div class="stanza"> "Nay now, what faith?" said Alice the nurse, "The man will cleave unto his right," "And he shall have it," the lady replied, "Tho' I should die to-night." </div> <div class="stanza"> "Yet give one kiss to your mother dear! Alas! my child, I sinn'd for thee." "O mother, mother, mother," she said, "So strange it seems to me. </div> <div class="stanza"> "Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear, My mother dear, if this be so, And lay your hand upon my head, And bless me, mother, ere I go." </div> <div class="stanza"> She clad herself in a russet gown, She was no longer Lady Clare: She went by dale, and she went by down, With a single rose in her hair. </div> <div class="stanza"> The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought Leapt up from where she lay, Dropt her head in the maiden's hand, And follow'd her all the way. </div> <div class="stanza"> Down stept Lord Ronald from his tower: "O Lady Clare, you shame your worth! Why come you drest like a village maid, That are the flower of the earth?" </div> <div class="stanza"> "If I come drest like a village maid, I am but as my fortunes are: I am a beggar born," she said, "And not the Lady Clare." </div> <div class="stanza"> "Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, "For I am yours in word and in deed. Play me no tricks," said Lord Ronald, "Your riddle is hard to read." </div> <div class="stanza"> O and proudly stood she up! Her heart within her did not fail: She look'd into Lord Ronald's eyes, And told him all her nurse's tale. </div> <div class="stanza"> He laugh'd a laugh of merry scorn: He turn'd and kiss'd her where she stood: "If you are not the heiress born? And I," said he, "the next in blood— </div> <div class="stanza"> "If you are not the heiress born, And I," said he, "the lawful heir, We two will wed to-morrow morn, And you shall still be Lady Clare." </div> </td></tr></table> Alfred Tennyson. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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