Poetry: Hand Crafts

Potter

The potter sits at his potter’s stool
And the wheel turns round on its stand,
Upon it he throws a lump of clay
Which wobbles and bumps in his hand.
 
Slowly and surely he centres the clay
Till it’s steady and ready to form:
Only by finding a centre still
Can a pot of clay be born.

Paul King

Spinner

Before her wooden spinning wheel
The maiden spins her woolen thread,
Busily turns the spindle spool,
Quick her fingers, light her tread.
 
Wheel is whirring, humming, stirring,
Turn the fleece and gently pull,
Spindle spinning, spool o’er-brimming
Thus the fleece is spun to wool.

Paul King

Weaver

See the weaver sit at her loom,
Quietly humming the weaving tune.
The shuttle flies from left to right,
Swift as a swallow darting in flight.
 
Through the warp and the weft her busy hands go,
Under and over, now to and now fro,
Weaving a pattern of dark and of light,
Till a weavework is finished of joy and delight.

Paul King

Smith

Tubal Cain was a man of might,
He hammered tools from iron bright,
With fire ablaze from his bellows strong,
He worked with a will the whole day long.
 
With a clash and a clang on the anvil he rang,
With each hammer-struck blow falling true,
Till he’d forged from the fire, for all folk to admire,
A bright sword-blade and ploughshares new.

Paul King

Poem: My Zoo

My Zoo is open to all,
Even the horse in the stall,
Even the puppy and cat--
Even the mouse and the rat!
Leapers and flyers and creepers,
Honkers and roarer and peppers,
Fur or feathers or hide--
Everyone lives inside.
They all can be found in these pages.
My Zoo doesn't have any cages!

So come on, step into the Zoo--
The animals all welcome you!


by William Cole

Poem: Wouldn't It Be Funny

Now, wouldn't it be funnt
If the creatures in the Zoo were all let out to walk about
And look at me and you?

And wouldn't it be funny
If they put us in the cages,
And Kangaroos and Cockatoos
Came guessing at our ages?

And wouldn't it be funny
If the Hip-po-pot-amus
Said, "Don't go near, I really fear
They're very dangerous."

by Pixie O'Harris

Poem: The Toucan

Of all the birds I know, few can
Boast of as large a bill as the toucan.
Yet I can think of one who can,
And if you think a while, too, you can:
Another toucan
In the zoo can.


Pyke Johnson, Jr.

Poem: The Tiger

A tiger going for a stroll
Met an old man and ate him whole.

The old man shouted, and he thumper,
The tiger's stomach churcned and bumped.

The other tigers said: "Now really,
We hear your breakfast much too clearly."

The moral is, he should have chewed.
It does no good to bolt one's food.

by Edward Lucie-Smith

Peom: The Elephant

Of all the facts about mammals
This is most relevant:
It takes a lot of paper
To gift-wrap an elephant.


by Louis Phillips

Poem: True Chameleon

The true Chameleon is small,
   A lizard sort of thing;
He hasn't any ears at all,
   And not a single wing.
If there is nothing in the tree,
'Tis the Chameleon you see.


by Carolyn Wells

Poem: About the Teeth of Sharks

The thing about a shark is--teeth,
One row above, one row beneath.

Now take a close look. Do you find
It has another row behind?

Still closer--here, I'll hold your hat:
Has it a third row behind that?

Now look in and...Look out! Oh my,
I'll never know now! Well, goodbye.


by John Ciardi

Poem: Jim-Jam Pyjamas

He wears striped jim-jam pyjamas,
You never saw jim-jams like those,
A fine-fitting, stretchy, fur cat-suit,
Skin-tight from his head to his toes.

He wears striped jim-jam pyjamas,
Black and yellow and dashingly gay;
He makes certain that everyone sees them
By keeping them on all day.

He wears striped jim-jam pyjamas,
He walks with a smug-pussy stride;
There's no hiding his pride in his jim-jams
With their zig-zaggy lines down each side.

He wears striped jim-jam pyjamas
And pauses at times to display
The effect as he flexes his torso--
Then he fancies he heads people say;

"I wish I had jim-jam pyjamas!
I wish I were feline and slim!
Oh, look at that brave Bengal tiger!
Oh, how I should love to be him!"

by Gina Wilson

Poem: The Hyena

The hyena is
A funny bloke,
He'll laugh at almost
Any joke,
So if you have
A joke that's dim,
Go and tell your joke
To him.

by mike Thaler

Poem: Are You a Marsupial?

Now are you a marsupial?
And have you a little pouch?
If I pinch it on the inside
Does something inside holler "ouch!"?

by John Becker

Poem: Crocodile or Alligator

here is an abreviated version of Colin West's poem...

Crocodiles, with their jaws shut tightly,
Show their teeth off impolitely,
But alligators aren't so rude,
And seldom let their teeth protrude.

by Colin West

Poem: The Chameleon

People say the Chameleon can take on the hue
Of whatever he happens to be on. It's true
-- Within reason, of course. If you put him on plaid
Or polka dots, he gets really mad.

by John Gardner

Poem: Growing Up

Little Tommy Tadpole began to weep and wail,
For little Tommy Tadpole had lost his little tail,
And his mother didn't know him, as he wept upon a log;
For now he wasn't Tommy Tadpole, but Mr. Thomas Frog.

by C.J. Dennis

Poem: Ride the Rhythm

Ride the rhythm
that rocks and rolls
that weaves and winds
and swaggers and strolls.

Ride the rhythm
that bucks and swerves
that shivers and trembles
and creeps and curves.

Ride the rhythm
that skitters and slides
that trots and tramps
and gambols and glides.

Ride the rhythm
on wild-word-wings
and taste the joy a poem brings.

by Janeen Brian

Poem: There Isn't Time

There isn't time, there isn't time
  To do the things I want to do--
With all the mountain tops to climb
  And all the woods to wander through
And all the seas to sail upon,
   And everywhere there is to go,
And all the people, everyone one,
   Who live upon the earth to know.
There's only time, there's only time
To know a few, to do a few,
   And then sit down and make a rhyme
      About the rest I want to do.


by Eleanor Farjeon

Poem: Skunk

Skunk's footfall plods padded
   But like the thunder-crash
He makes the night woods nervous
   And wears the lightning-flash--

From nose to tail a zigzag spark
   As warning to us all
That thunderbolts are very like
  The strokes he can let fall.

That cloudburst soak, that dazzling bang
   Of stink he can let drop
Over you like a cloak of tar
   Will bring you to a stop.

O skunk! O King of Stinkards!
   Only the Moon knows
You are her prettiest, ugliest flower,
   Her blackest, whitest rose!


by Ted Hughes

Poem: Cat Bath

She always tries
to look her best--
she washes east,
she washes west,
she washes north,
she washes south
with the washcloth
in her mouth.

And then, without
a sign of rush,
she makes her tongue
a comb and brush
to groom her fur
or, should she choose,
to smooth the velvet
of her shooes.


by Aileen Fisher

Poem: Old Hogan's Goat

Old Hogan's goat was feeling fine,
Ate six red shirts from off the line;
Old Hogan grabbed him by the back
And tied him to the railroad track.
Now when the train came into sight,
That goat grew pale and green with fright;
He heaved a sigh, as if in pain,
Coughed up those shirts and flagged the train!

American Folk Rhyme/song

Poem: The Happy Sheep

All through the night the happy sheep
Lie in the meadow grass asleep.

Their wool keeps out the frost and rain
Until the sun comes round again.

They have no buttons to undo,
Nor hair to brush like me and you,

And with the light they lift their heads
To find their breakfast on their beds

Or rise and walk about and eat
The carpet underneath their feet.


by Wilfred Thorley

Poem: Sheep

When sheep
Can't sleep
Do they make a big fuss,
Or do they just go ahead
And begin
To count
Us?


by Mike Thaler

Poem: The Racoon

The raccoon wears a mask at night
And has a brown-ringed tail.
That's how I recognize him when
He dumps my garbage pail.

by Pyke Johnson, Jr.

Peom: The Tale of a Dog

When my little dog is happy,
   And canine life is bliss,
He always keeps his joyful tail
                                .                              
                                s
                                i
                                h
                                t
                               
                                e
                                k
                                i
       A standing up   l

  When my little dog is doleful,
   And bones are scare, you know,
He always keeps his mornful tail
             A hanging  d
                                o
                                w
                                n
                               
                                l
                                o
                                w
                                .


by James H. Lambert

Poem: Big Black Dog

Mother says I'm ot to go
   Past that house at night--
They have an awful big black dog
   And HE MIGHT BITE.

But my friend Jane
   Says that's not quite right,
She says she knows the dog
   And he would NEVER BITE.

What shall I do?
   I think I'll go tonight,
I really must find out
   WHO IS RIGHT.

So I went and stared right at him
   I gave him such a fright
He looked as if he thought
   I MIGHT BITE!


by Carol Michael

Poem: The House of the Mouse

The house of the mouse
is a wee little house,
a green little house in the grass,
which big clumsy folk
may hunt and may poke
and still never see as they pass
this sweet little, neat little,
wee little, green little,
cudddle-down hide-away house in the grass.


by Lucy Sprague Mitchell

Poem: I Am Home

"I am home," said the turtle, as it pulled in it's head
And its feet, and its tail. "I am home, and in bed."

"No matter what inches and inches I roam,
When the long day is done, I am always at home.

"I may go whole feet...even yards...in a day,
But I never get lost, for I'm never away

"From my snug little house and my snug little bed.
Try being a turtle! --That's using your head!

"You can go on forever, no matter how far,
And whatever you need is wherever you are!"

("Is there one thing I miss when I'm snuggled in tight>
Yes: there's no room for someone to kiss me good night.")


by John Ciardi

Poem: Thorny

That briar patch looks uninhabitable;
In fact I doubt it's even rabbitable!

by William Cole

Poem: The Mouse Ate the Bait

The mouse ate the bait off.
The trap didn't spring.
He didn't just nibble it,
He ate the whole thing,
Did a little mouse dance
Shivering with glee,
Used it for a bathroom
And waved his tail at me.


by Mildred Luton

Poem: Dimpleton the Simpleton

Dimpleton the simpleton

   Went out to milk the cow.

Dimpleton the simpleton

   Could not remember how.

He pumped her tail, both high and low,

   To make the milk come out;

The cow went Moo, the bucket flew,

   And smacked him on the snout.

by Dennis Lee

Poem: Groundhog Day

In February when few gusty flakes
Above the frozen sheets of snow still hover,
Out of his hole the sleepy groundhog breaks
To peek around and see if winter's over.

Now if he finds his shadow, back he shies
To nap while deeper drifts the wind shall bring;
But if no shadow shows beneath dark skies
He waddles through the ditch to look for spring.

by Marnie Pomeroy

Poem: Always Be Kind to Animals

Always be kind to animals,
Morning, noon and night;
For animals have feelings too,
And furthermore, they bite.


by John Gardner

Poem: Roosters

"Get out of my way!"
   says Rooster One.
"I won't!"
   says Rooster Two.
"You won't?"
"I won't!"
"You shall!"
"I shan't!"
Cock cock-a-
doodle-doo.
They picked.
They kicked.
They fought for hours.
There was a great
to-do!
"You're a very fine fighter,"
   says Rooster One.
"You're right!"
   says Rooster Two.

by Elizabeth Coatsworth

Poem: The Red Hen

She turned her hed to this side;
   She turned her head to that.
Looking round for tidbits,
   Juicy ones and fat.

Scritchy-scratch went Red Hen's feet;
   Nib-nob went her bill.
She ate of juicy tidbits,
   Until she had her fill.

And then she flew into a nest
   And laid and egg, and then.
With a cut-cut-cut, ca-dah-cut,
   Flew off to eat again.


by James S. Tippett

Poem: Rhinoceros

I often wonder whether
The rhinoceros's leather
Is as bumpy on the inside
As it is upon the skinside.

by Mary Ann Hoberman

Poem: Hurt No Living Thing

Hurt no living thing:
Ladybug, nor butterfly,
Nor moth with dusty wing,
Nor crickdet chirping cheerily,
Nor grasshopper so light of leap.
Nor dancing gnat, or betle flat,
Nor harmless worms that creep.

by Christina Rosetti

Poem: Homes Everywhere

Living creatures need a home,
A place to call their own.
A den, a nest, a web, a barn,
Or even under a stone.
A shell, a box, a hole in a tree,
A home can be anywhere.
Remember when you're out exploring
To treat nature's homes with care.

by Carol Simpson

Poem: Rain

The rain was like a little mouse,

Quiet, small, and gray,
It pattered all around the house
And then it went away.
It did not come, I understand,
Indoors at all, until,
It found an open window and
Left tracks across the sill.

By Elizabeth Coatsworth

Poem: Snail

Snail upon the wall
Have you got at all
Anything to tell
About your shell?

Only this, my child--
When the wind is wild,
Or when the sun is hot,
It's all I've got.


by John Drinkwater

Poem: Frog Haiku

A discovery!
On my frog's smooth green belly
there sits no button.


Haiku, Yaku

Poem: Dragonfly

The face of the dragonfly
Is practically nothing
But eyes.



Haiku, Chisoku

Poem: Electric Eel

Some think Electric Eel lacks looks,
Some others find it stunning.
A homegrown battery it packs
To keep it's shocker running.

Why, you could light all New York's streets
And sky scapers and stuff,
With one Electric Eel alone
If it were long enough.


by X.J. Kennedy

Poem: The Barracuda

Slowly, slowly he cruises,
And slowly, slowly he chooses
Which kind of fish he prefers to take this morning;
Then without warning
The Barracuda opens his jaws, teeth flashing,
And with a horrible, horrible grinding and gnashing,
Devours a hundred poor creatures and feels no remorse.
It's no wonder of course,
That he really ought, perhaps, to change his ways.
"but" (as he says
With an evil grin)
"It's actually not my fault, you see!
I've nothing to do with the tragedy;
I open my mouth for a yawn and--ah me--
They all
                      swim
                                in."



by John Gardner

Poem: Sparrow

A hummingbird hums
A woodpecker drums.
A gull is graceful in flight.

A jay find fighting
Pretty exciting
And licks every bird in sight.

A swallow swoops
In up-and-down loops
And seldom lights on the ground.

But take a sparrow
Whose world is narrow,
A sparrow just hangs around.

A partridge whirs
Through the pines and the firs
A chickadee's ways are cute.

A pigeon coos.
And an owl hoo-hoos
Whenever it gives a hoot.

A crow steals corn
From the year it's born
Then hides where it can't be found.

A sparrow, though,
Doesn't come and go,
A sparrow just hangs around.


by Kaye Starbird

Poem: The Pelican Chorus

King and Queen of the Pelicans we;
   No other birds so grand we see!
None but we have feet like fins!
With lovely, leathery throats and chins!
      Ploffkin, Pluffsin, Pelican jee!
      We think no birds as happy as we!
      Plumpskin, Plashkin, Pelican jill!
      We think so then, and we thought so still!


by Edward Lear

Poem: Enigma Sartorial

Consider the Penguin.
He's smart as can be--
Dressed in his dinner clothes
Permanently.
You never can tell
When you see him come about,
If he's just coming in
Or just going out!


by Lucy W. Rhu

Poem: Narwhal

Around their igloo fires with glee
   The Eskimos tell tales
Of NArwhal. Listen and you'll see
   This unicorn of whales
Through frosty waves off Greenland's coast
   Majestically advance.
And like a knight come forth to joust
   Hold high its ivory lance.


by X. J. Kennedy

Poem: The Bird's Nest

I know a place, in the ivy on a tree,
Where a bird's nest is, and the eggs are three,
And the bird is brown, and the eggs are blue,
And the twigs are old, and the moss is new,
And I go quite near, though I think I should have heard
The sound of me watching, if I had been a bird.


by John Drinkwater

Poem: The Flying Squirrel

The Flying Squirrel is crazy.
Though he has no feather (much less wings),
He scampers up into the tallest tree
And cries, " toot-toot! I'm a parachute!"
And away off the highest branches he springs
Into empty air, spreading every hair,
His arms and legs spread wide to the side,
Till he lands with a thump that's almost quiet..

Admire it child, but don't try it.


by John Gardner

Poem: Mother Doesn't Want a Dog

Mother doesn't want a dog.
Mother says they smell.
And never sit when you say sit
Or even when you yell.
And when you come home late at night,
And there is ice and snow,
You have to go back out because
The dumb dog has to go.

Mother doesn't want a dog.
Mother says they shed,
And always let the strangers in
And bark at friends instead.
And do disgraceful things on rugs,
And track mud on the floor,
And flop upon your bed at night
And snore their doggy snore.

Mother doesn't want a dog.
She's making a mistake.
Because, more than a dog, I think
She will not want this snake.


by Judith Viorst

Poem: The Porcupine

A porcupine looks somewhat silly.
He also is extremely quilly.
And if he shoots a quill at you,
Run fast
Or you'll be quilly too.

I would not want a porcupine
To be my loving valentine.


by Karla Kuskin

Poem: Fun to be a Hippo

What fun             to be
A Hippo             -potamus
And weigh          a ton
From top             to bottamus.


by Michael Flanders

Poem: Firefly

A little light is going by,
Is going up to see the sky,
A little light with wings.

I never could have thought of it,
To have a little bug all lit
And made to go on wings.

by Elizabeth Madox Roberts

Poem: Tails

The kangaroo has a heavy tail
She sits on for a chair.
There’s scarcely any tail at all
Upon the polar bear.
But the monkey has the nicest tail
Of any living thing,
For he can hook it to a branch
 And use it as a swing.


by Rowena Bennet

Poem: Giraffes

Giraffes
    I like them.
   Ask me why.
 Because they hold their heads up high.
 Because their necks stretch to the sky.
 Because they’re quiet, calm, and shy.
 Because they run so fast they fly,
 Because their eyes are velvet brown.
 Because their coats are spotted tan.
 Because they eat the tops of trees.
 Because their legs have knobby knees.
 Because
 Because
 Because.
That’s why I like giraffes.

by Mary Ann Hoberman

Poem: The Yak

Yickity-yackity, yickity-yak.
The yak has a scriffily, scraffily back.
Some yaks are brown yaks and some are black.
Yickity-yackity, yickity-yak.

Sniggildy-snaggildy, sniggildy-snag,
the yak is all covered with shiggildy-shag;
he walks with a ziggildy-zaggildy-zag,
sniggildy-snaggildy, sniggildy-snag.


by Jack Prelutsky

Poem: The Lizard

The Lizard is a timid thing
That cannot dance or fly or sing;
He hunts for bugs beneath the floor
And longs to be a dinosaur.

by John Gardner

Poem: Long Gone

Don't waste your time in looking for
the long-extinct tyrannosaur,
because this ancient dinosaur
just can't be found here anymore.

This also goes for stegosaurus,
allosaurus, brontosaurus
and any other kind of saurus.
They all live here before us.

by Jack Prelutsky

Poem: The Duck

Behold the duck.
It does not cluck.
A cluck it lacks.
It quacks.
It is especially fond
Of a puddle or pond.
When it dines or sups,
It's bottoms up.

by Ogden Nash

Poem: How Doth the Little Crocodile

How doth the little crocodile
   Improve his shining tail,
And pour the waters of the Nile
   On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin,
   How neatly spreads his claws,
And welcomes little fishes in,
   With greatly smiling jaws!

by Lewis Carroll

Poem: Butterfly

What is a butterfly? At best
He's but a caterpillar dressed.

by Benjamin Franklin

Poem: Busy

Busy, busuy, busy, busy,
Busy little squirrel--
Running, running, jumping,
In a dizzy whirl.
Stopping now and then to eat
A tasty little acorn treat--
Busy, busy, busy, busy,
Busy little squirrel.


by Phyllis Halloran

Poem: The Tortoise and the Hedgehog

Can't curl, but can swim--
Slow-Solid, that's him!
Curls up, but can't swim--
Stickly-Prickly, that's him!

by Rudyard Kipling

Poem: Seal Lullaby

Oh! hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us.
   And black are the waters that sparkled so gree.
The moon, o'er the combers, looks downward to find us
   At rest in the hollows that rustle between.
Where billow meets billow, there soft be thy pillow;
   Ah, weary wee flipperling, curl at thy ease!
The storm shall not wake thee, no shark overtake thee.
   Asleep in the arms of the slow-swinging seas.

by Rudyard Kipling

Poem: Travel Plans

If I could go anywhere,
   Here's what I'd do.
I'd pop in the pouch of a kind
   kangaroo.
I'd travel around for as long
   as I pleased,
And learn to say "thank you"
   in Kangarooese.

by Bobbi KAtz

Poem: The Elephant

The elephant is quite a beast,
He's rather large to say the least,
And though his size is most impressive,
He never throws his weight around,
Still he always holds his ground.
He only wants to feel secure.
Long may the elephant endure!

by Arnold Sundgaard

Poem: The Duck-billed Platypus

The duck-billed platypus isn't easy to imagine,
of all the earthly creatures he is most unique,
lays eggs like a bird but suckles like an animal,
and swims like a fish at the bottom of a creek.

If you ask it why it behaves so confusingly,
It hides in a hole and simply will not speak,
All that I can say, it's a shy individual,
An oddity of nature and a very charming freak!

by Arnold Sundgaard

Poem: Commissariat Camels

We haven't a camelty tune of our own
To help us trollop along.
But every neck is a hairy trombone,
Rtt-ta-ta-ta! is a hairy trombone.
And this is our marching song:
Can't! Dont! Shan't! Won't!
Pass it along the line!

by Rudyard Kipling

Poem: Baby Chick

Peck
   peck
      peck
on the warm brown egg.
OUT comes a neck.
OUT comes a leg.

How
   does
      a chick
who's not been about,
discover the trick
of how to get out?


by Aileen Fisher

Poem: My Opinion

Is a caterpillar ticklish?
Well, it's always my belief
That he giggles as he wiggles
Across a hairy leaf.

by Monica Shannon

Poem: Crickets

We cannot say that crickets sing
Since all they do is twang a wing.

Especially when the wind is still
They orchestrate a sunlit hill.

And in the evening blue above
They weave the stars and moon with love.

Then peacefully they chirp all night
Remembering delight, delight...


by Harry Behn

Poem: Every Insect

Every Insect (ant, fly, bee)
Is divided into three:
One head, one chest, one stomach part.

Some have brains.
All have a heart.

Insects have no bones,

No noses.

But with feelers they can smell
Dinner half a mile away.

Can your nose do as well?

Also you'd be in a fix
With all those legs to manage:
Six.

by Dorothy Aldis

Poem: The Octopus

Tell me, O Octopus, I begs,
Is those things arms or is they legs?
I marvel at thee, Octopus;
If I were thou, I'd call me Us.

by Ogden Nash

The Bonny Lass of Anglesey

There he sits and there he stands,
Alone and oh what a frightened king is he.
Fifteen lords have all come down
To dance and gain the victory.

Our king he keeps a good treasure
And he keeps it locked with a silver key,
But fifteen lords have all come down
To dance his gold and his lands away.

There he stands at the castle high
And oh so loud, so loud I heard him cry:
“Go saddle your horse and bring to me
The bonny lass of Anglesey!”

Some rode North and some rode South,
There was some to the East they rode straightway.
Spied her there on the mountain high,
The bonny lass of Anglesey.

Up she starts as white as the milk
Between the king and all of his company,
Cries, “What is the price I have to ask
If I do gain the victory?”

“Fifteen ploughs, a house and a mill
I will give to thee till the day thou dies,
The fairest knight in all my court
To take your husband for to be.”

“Fifteen ploughs, a house and a mill,
Come now that's no prize for the victory.
And there's no knight in all your court
That shall have me as a wife to be.”

Up she starts as white as the milk;
She danced light as a leaf on the broken sea
Till fifteen lords all cried aloud
For the bonny lass of Anglesey.

She's taken fifteen one by one,
Saying, “Sweet kind sir, will you dance with me?”
But e'er it's ten o'clock o' the night
They gave it o'er right shamefully.

But up and rose the fifteenth knight
And oh what an angry man was he;
He laid aside his buckler and sword
Before he strode so manfully.

And he's danced high and he's danced low,
And he has danced the livelong day.
He said, “My feet shall be my death
E'er she gains the victory.”

“Oh my feet shall be my death
E'er this lass do gain the victory.”
But e'er it's ten o'clock o' the morn
He gave it o'er right shamefully.

She's taken the king all by the hand,
Saying, “Sweet kind sir, will you walk with me.”
But e'er the king has gone one step
She's danced his gold and his land away.

Saying, “Fifteen ploughs, a house and a mill,
Come now that's no price for the victory.”
And away she's gone with his treasure,
The bonny lass of Anglesey.

She's taken all their bucklers swords,
She's taken all their gold and their bright money
And back to the mountain she's away,
The bonny lass of Anglesey.

There's fifteen lords come a-swaggering down
For to dance and gain the victory,
But fifteen lords and one high king
Go all ragged and bare today.

*Scottish Wisdom Tale/Ballad

A Book

A Book 

“Now” - said a good book unto me -
“Open my pages and you shall see
Jewels of wisdom and treasures fine,
Gold and silver in every line,
And you may claim them if you but will
Open my pages and take your fill.

“Open my pages and run them o’er,
Take what you choose of my golden store.
Be you greedy, I shall not care -
All that you seize I shall gladly spare;
There is never a lock on my treasure doors,
Come - here are my jewels, make them yours!

“I am just a book on your mantel shelf,
But I can be part of your living self;
If only you’ll travel my pages through,
Then I will travel the world with you.
As two wines blended make better wine,
Blend your mind with these truths of mine.

“I’ll make you fitter to talk with men,
I’ll touch with silver the lines you pen,
I’ll lead you nearer the truth you seek,
I’ll strengthen you when your faith grows weak -
This place on your shelf is a prison cell,
Let me come into your mind to dwell!”


by Edgar Guest

I Dream A World

I dream a world where man
No other man will scorn,
Where love will bless the earth
And peace its paths adorn
I dream a world where all
Will know sweet freedom's way,
Where greed no longer saps the soul
Nor avarice blights our day.
A world I dream where black or white,
Whatever race you be,
Will share the bounties of the earth
And every man is free,
Where wretchedness will hang its head
And joy, like a pearl,
Attends the needs of all mankind-
Of such I dream, my world!

by Langston Hughes