Children poems
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The Ring And The Book - Chapter IX - Juris Doctor Johannes-Baptista Bottinius
© Robert Browning
Thus
Would I defend the step,were the thing true
Which is a fable,see my former speech,
That Guido slept (who never slept a wink)
Through treachery, an opiate from his wife,
Who not so much as knew what opiates mean.
Time, Real And Imaginary. An Allegory
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
On the wide level of a mountain's head
(I knew not where, but 'twas some faery place),
Their pinions, ostrich-like, for sails outspread,
Two lovely children run an endless race,
Metamorphoses: Book The First
© Ovid
OF bodies chang'd to various forms, I sing:
Ye Gods, from whom these miracles did spring,
Inspire my numbers with coelestial heat;
'Till I my long laborious work compleat:
The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 8
© Publius Vergilius Maro
WHEN Turnus had assembled all his powrs,
His standard planted on Laurentums towrs;
Evangeline: Part The Second. III.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
NEAR to the bank of the river, o'ershadowed by oaks, from whose branches
Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe flaunted,
Vicksburg.A Ballad
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
FOR sixty days and upwards,
A storm of shell and shot
Rained round us in a flaming shower,
But still we faltered not.
Tied Down
© Edgar Albert Guest
"They tie you down," a woman said,
Whose cheeks should have been flaming red
Punishment
© Edgar Albert Guest
Their childhood is so brief that we
Should hesitate to spoil their fun,
Tale IX
© George Crabbe
course,"
Replied the Youth; "but has it power to force?
Unless it forces, call it as you will,
It is but wish, and proneness to the ill."
"Art thou not tempted?"--"Do I fall?" said
Some Boys are Born to Wander by Walter McDonald: American Life in Poetry #48 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet L
© Ted Kooser
Every parent can tell a score of tales about the difficulties of raising children, and then of the difficulties in letting go of them. Here the Texas poet, Walt McDonald, shares just such a story.
Some Boys are Born to Wander
From Michigan our son writes, How many elk?
How many big horn sheep? It's spring,
and soon they'll be gone above timberline,
Old Cambridge
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
AND can it be you've found a place
Within this consecrated space,
Two Folk Songs
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
When winter trees bestrew the path,
Still to the twig a leaf or twain
Will cling and weep, not Winter's wrath,
But that foreknown forlorner pain-
To fall when green leaves come again.
With Hale Affection And Abiding Faith These Rhymes And Pictures Are Inscribed To The Children Everyw
© James Whitcomb Riley
_He owns the bird-songs of the hills--
The laughter of the April rills;
(Untitled) by Joette Giorgis : American Life in Poetry #250 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
I’m very fond of poems that demonstrate their authors’ attentiveness to the world about them, as regular readers of this column have no doubt noticed. Here is a nine-word poem by Joette Giorgis, who lives in Pennsylvania, that is based upon noticing and then thinking about something so ordinary that it might otherwise be overlooked. Even the separate words are flat and commonplace. But so much feeling comes through!
(Untitled)
children grown-
Ode On The Sailing Of Our Troops For France
© John Jay Chapman
Go fight for Freedom, Warriors of the West!
At last the word is spoken: Go!
Lay on for Liberty. 'Twas at her breast
The tyrant aimed his blow;
And ye were wounded with the rest
In Belgium's overthrow.
England's Day: A War-Saga
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Commended To Gortschakoff, Grant, And Bismark; And Dedicated To The British
1871
The Arras Road
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I
The early night falls on the plain
In cloud and desolating rain.
I see no more, but feel around
The ruined earth, the wounded ground.
The Cost Of Praise
© Edgar Albert Guest
THIS morning came a man to me, his smile was wonderful to see,
He shook my hand and doffed his hat then promptly took a chair;
