Poems Every Child Should Know Part 12

Faint she grew and ever fainter.

As she murmur'd, "Oh, that he Were once more that landscape-painter Which did win my heart from me!"

So she droop'd and droop'd before him, Fading slowly from his side; Three fair children first she bore him, Then before her time she died.

Weeping, weeping late and early, Walking up and pacing down, Deeply mourn'd the Lord of Burleigh, Burleigh-house by Stamford-town.

And he came to look upon her, And he look'd at her and said, "Bring the dress and put it on her That she wore when she was wed."

Then her people, softly treading, Bore to earth her body, drest In the dress that she was wed in, That her spirit might have rest.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

HIAWATHA'S CHILDHOOD.

"Hiawatha" needs no commendation. Hundreds of thousands of children in our land know s.n.a.t.c.hes of it It is a child's poem, every line of it.

One summer in Boston more than 50,000 people went to take a peep at the poet's house. (1807-82.)

By the sh.o.r.es of Gitche Gumee, By the s.h.i.+ning Big-Sea-Water, Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis.

Dark behind it rose the forest, Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees, Rose the firs with cones upon them; Bright before it beat the water, Beat the clear and sunny water, Beat the s.h.i.+ning Big-Sea-Water.

There the wrinkled old Nokomis Nursed the little Hiawatha, Rocked him in his linden cradle, Bedded soft in moss and rushes, Safely bound with reindeer sinews; Stilled his fretful wail by saying, "Hus.h.!.+ the Naked Bear will hear thee!"

Lulled him into slumber, singing, "Ewa-yea! my little owlet!

Who is this that lights the wigwam?

With his great eyes lights the wigwam?

Ewa-yea! my little owlet!"

Many things Nokomis taught him Of the stars that s.h.i.+ne in heaven; Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet, Ishkoodah, with fiery tresses; Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits, Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs, Flaring far away to northward In the frosty nights of winter; Showed the broad, white road in heaven, Pathway of the ghosts, the shadows, Running straight across the heavens, Crowded with the ghosts, the shadows.

At the door, on summer evenings, Sat the little Hiawatha; Heard the whispering of the pine-trees, Heard the lapping of the water, Sounds of music, words of wonder; "Minnie-wawa!" said the pine-trees, "Mudway-aushka!" said the water; Saw the fire-fly, Wah-wah-taysee, Flitting through the dusk of evening, With the twinkle of its candle Lighting up the brakes and bushes, And he sang the song of children.

Sang the song Nokomis taught him: "Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly, Little, flitting, white-fire insect, Little, dancing, white-fire creature, Light me with your little candle, Ere upon my bed I lay me, Ere in sleep I close my eyelids!"

Saw the moon rise from the water Rippling, rounding from the water, Saw the flecks and shadows on it, Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?"

And the good Nokomis answered: "Once a warrior, very angry, Seized his grandmother, and threw her Up into the sky at midnight; Right against the moon he threw her; 'Tis her body that you see there."

Saw the rainbow in the heaven, In the eastern sky, the rainbow, Whispered, "What is that, Nokomis?"

And the good Nokomis answered: "Tis the heaven of flowers you see there; All the wild-flowers of the forest, All the lilies of the prairie, When on earth they fade and perish, Blossom in that heaven above us."

When he heard the owls at midnight, Hooting, laughing in the forest, "What is that?" he cried, in terror; "What is that," he said, "Nokomis?"

And the good Nokomis answered: "That is but the owl and owlet, Talking in their native language, Talking, scolding at each other."

Then the little Hiawatha Learned of every bird its language, Learned their names and all their secrets, How they built their nests in summer, Where they hid themselves in winter, Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them "Hiawatha's Chickens."

Of all beasts he learned the language, Learned their names and all their secrets, How the beavers built their lodges, Where the squirrels hid their acorns, How the reindeer ran so swiftly, Why the rabbit was so timid, Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them "Hiawatha's Brothers."

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW.

I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD.

"The Daffodil" is here out of compliment to a splendid school and a splendid teacher at Poughkeepsie. I found the pupils learning the poem, the teacher having placed a bunch of daffodils in a vase before them.

It was a charming lesson. (1770-96.)

I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils: Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that s.h.i.+ne And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay; Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:-- A poet could not but be gay In such a jocund company; I gazed--and gazed--but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought.

For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

JOHN BARLEYCORN.

"John Barleycorn" is a favourite with boys because it pictures a successful struggle. One editor has made a temperance poem of it, mistaking its true intent. The poem is a strong expression of a plow-man's love for a hardy, food-giving grain which has sprung to life through his efforts. (1759-96.)

There were three kings into the East, Three kings both great and high; And they ha'e sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn should die.

They took a plow and plowed him down, Put clods upon his head; And they ha'e sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerful spring came kindly on, And showers began to fall; John Barleycorn got up again, And sore surprised them all.

The sultry suns of summer came, And he grew thick and strong; His head well arm'd wi' pointed spears, That no one should him wrong.

The sober autumn entered mild, And he grew wan and pale; His bending joints and drooping head Showed he began to fail.

His colour sickened more and more, He faded into age; And then his enemies began To show their deadly rage.

They took a weapon long and sharp, And cut him by the knee, Then tied him fast upon a cart, Like a rogue for forgery.

They laid him down upon his back, And cudgelled him full sore; They hung him up before the storm, And turn'd him o'er and o'er.

They filled up then a darksome pit With water to the brim, And heaved in poor John Barleycorn, To let him sink or swim.

They laid him out upon the floor, To work him further woe; And still as signs of life appeared, They tossed him to and fro.

They wasted o'er a scorching flame The marrow of his bones; But a miller used him worst of all-- He crushed him 'tween two stones.

And they have taken his very heart's blood, And drunk it round and round; And still the more and more they drank, Their joy did more abound.

ROBERT BURNS.

A LIFE ON THE OCEAN WAVE.

"A Life on the Ocean Wave," by Epes Sargent (1813-80), gives the swing and motion of the water of the great ocean. Children remember it almost unconsciously after hearing it read several times.