When I was a little girl, my parents bought the World Book Encyclopedia. A set of Childcraft books came with
them. I spent many, many hours on end reading the poems and stories. It took me to faraway lands and other times.
I memorized so many of these poems that I have recited to my children and now my grandchildren. This was in the early 60s.
When I had graduated high school, my Mom gave the books to my oldest sister for her children to use. A few years ago,
my sister gave them back to me as she knew how much they meant to me. What I am putting on these pages comes directly
from the World Book Encyclopedia Childcraft circa 1960. I think these volumes had a lot to do with my love of reading.
AUTUMN FIRES
In the other gardens And all up the vale, From the autumn bonfires See the smoke trail!
Pleasant summer over And all the summer flowers, The red fire blazes, The gray smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons! Something bright in all! Flowers in the summer, Fires in the fall!
written by ........ Robert Louis Stevenson
THE PICNIC
We brought a rug for sitting on, Our lunch was in a box. The sand was warm. We didn't wear Hats
or shoes or socks.
Waves came curling up the beach. We waded. It was fun. Our sandwiches were different kinds. I dropped my jelly one.
written by ........ Dorothy Aldis
THE ANIMAL STORE
If I had a hundred dollars to spend, or maybe a little bit more, I'd hurry as fast as my legs would go
Straight to the animal store.
I wouldn't say,"How much for this or that?" "What kind of dog is he?" I'd buy as many as rolled an eye,
or wagged a tail at me!
I'd take the hound with the drooping ears That sits by himself alone; Cockers and Cairns and wobbly pups
For to be my very own.
I might buy a parrot all red and green, And the monkey I saw before, If I had a hundred dollars to spend, or
maybe a little bit more.
written by ........ Rachel Field
THE MIST AND ALL
I like the fall, The mist and all. I like the night owl's lonely call-- And wailing sound of
wind around.
I like the gray November day, And bare dead boughs that coldly sway against my pane. I like the rain.
I like to sit and laugh at it-- And tend My cozy fire a bit. I like the fall-- The mist and all.
written by ........ Dixie Willson
GRANDPA DROPPED HIS GLSSSES
Grandpa dropped his glasses once In a pot of dye, And when he put them on again He saw a purple
sky. Purple fires were rising up From a purple hill, Men were grinding purple cider At a purple mill.
Purple Adeline was playing With a purple doll; Little purple dragon flies were crawling up the wall. And
at the supper-table He got crazy as a loon From eating purple apple dumplings With a purple spoon.
written by ........ Leroy F. Jackson
THE POTATOES' DANCE
"Down cellar," said the cricket, "Down cellar," said the cricket, "Down cellar," said the cricket, "I saw a ball last night,
In honor of a lady, In honor of a lady, In honor of a lady, Whose wings were pearly white.
The breath of bitter weather, The breath of bitter weather, The breath of bitter weather, Had smashed the cellar pane.
We entertained a drift of leaves, We entertained a drift of leaves, We entertained a drift of leaves, And then of
snow and rain.
But we were dressed for winter, But we were dressed for winter, But we were dressed for winter, And loved to hear
it blow In honor of the lady, In honor of the lady, In honor of the lady, Who makes potatoes grow, Our guest
the Irish lady, The tiny Irish lady, The airy Irish lady, Who makes potatoes grow.
"Potatoes were the waiters, Potatoes were the waiters, Potatoes were the waiters, Potatoes were the band, Potatoes were the dancers Kicking up the sand,
Kicking up the sand, Kicking up the sand, Potatoes were the dancers Kicking up the sand. Their legs
were old burnt matches, Their legs were old burnt matches, Their legs were old burnt matches, Their arms
were just the same. They jigged and whirled and scrambled, Jigged and whirled and scrambled, Jigged and whirled and scrambled,
In honor of the dame, The noble Irish lady Who makes potatoes dance, The witty Irish lady, The saucy Irish lady, The laughing
Irish lady Who makes potatoes prance.
"There was just one sweet potato. He was golden brown and slim. The lady loved his dancing, The lady
loved his dancing, The lady loved his dancing, She danced all night with him. Alas, he wasn't Irish. So when she flew away,
They threw him in the coalbin, And there he is today, Where they cannot hear his sighs And his weeping for the lady, The glorious Irish lady,
The beauteous Irish lady, Who Gives Potatoes Eyes."
written by ........ Vachel Lindsay
THE PURPLE COW
I never saw a Purple Cow, I never hope to see one; But I can tell you, anyhow, I'd rather see than be one.
written by ........ Hilaire Belloc
ELETELEPHONY
Once there was an elephant, Who tried to use a telephant---- No! no! I mean an elephone
Who tried to use the telephone ---- (Dear me! I am not certain quite That even now I've got it right.)
Howe'er it was, he got his trunk Entangled in the telephunk; The more he tried to get it free, The louder
buzzed the telephee ---- (I fear I'd better drop the song of elephop and telephong!)
written by ........ Laura E. Richards
OLD GAELIC LULLABY
Hush! the waves are rolling in, White with foam, white with foam. Father toils amid the din,
But baby sleeps at home.
Hush! the winds roar hoarse and deep! On they come, on they come! Brother seeks the wandering sheep,
But baby sleeps at home.
Hush! the rain sweeps o'er the knowes Where they roam, where they roam.
Sister goes to seek the cows, But baby sleeps at home.
