Download PDF by Ada M. Skinner, Frances Gillespy Wickes, Maud Petersham,: A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Three
By Ada M. Skinner, Frances Gillespy Wickes, Maud Petersham, Miska Petersham
3rd quantity of A kid's personal ebook of Verse, a three-volume set deliberate to be used in the course of the 4 basic years. This surprisingly wonderful number of poetry used to be chosen with the kid's pursuits in brain. contains sound rhymes and jingles to entice the ear, descriptive poems to create photographs within the imagination, lullabies and lyrics to hot the guts, and story-telling poems to stir the mind's eye. Attractively illustrated through Maud and Miska Petersham. appropriate for a long time 7 to ten.
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Additional info for A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Three
Six white eggs on a bed of hay, Flecked with purple, a pretty sight! There, as the mother sits all day, Robert is singing with all his might "Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Nice good wife that never goes out, Keeping house while I frolic about. " Soon as the little ones chip the shell, Six wide mouths are open for food; Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well, Gathering seeds for the hungry brood. "Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink; Nobody knows but my mate and I Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Fly away, Kentucky Babe, fly away to rest, Lay yo' kinky woolly head on yo' mammy's breast, Um,—Um,—um,—um,— Close yo' eyes in sleep. Daddy's in de cane brake wid his little dog and gun,— Sleep, Kentucky Babe! 'Possum fo' yo' breakfast when yo' sleepin' time is done,— Sleep, Kentucky Babe! Bogie man 'll catch yo' sure unless yo' close yo' eyes, Waitin' jes' outside de doo' to take yo' by surprise, Bes' be keepin' shady, Little colored lady,— Close yo' eyes in sleep. —RICHARD HENRY BUCK Fairy Dawn 'Tis the hour of fairy ban and spell: The wood-tick has kept the minutes well; He has counted them all with click and stroke, Deep in the heart of the mountain oak, And he has awakened the sentry elve Who sleeps with him in the haunted tree, To bid him ring the hour of twelve, And call the fays to their revelry; Twelve small strokes on his tinkling bell— ('T was made of the white snail's pearly shell)— "Midnight comes, and all is well!
Trample! went the roan, Trap! trap! went the gray; But pad! pad! pad! like a thing that was mad, My chestnut broke away. It was just five miles from Salisbury town, And but one hour to day. Thud! thud! came on the heavy roan, Rap! rap! the mettled gray; But my chestnut mare was of blood so rare, That she showed them all the way. Spur on! spur on! I doffed my hat, And wished them all good day. They splashed through miry rut and pool,— Splintered through fence and rail; But chestnut Kate switched over the gate,— I saw them croop and tail.
A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Three by Ada M. Skinner, Frances Gillespy Wickes, Maud Petersham, Miska Petersham