Children's Poetry: Wrapping Up With Emily

The last two contributions to Children's Poetry Month are poems by Emily Dickinson, so I'll join in and contribute one from this hauntingly mysterious poet, too.

• Jen of joythruChrist has The Daisy Follows Soft the Sun.
• Kim from Hireath posts one she learned along with her son a few years ago.
• And here's one of my favorites.:

  I'm nobody! Who are you?
  Are you nobody, too?
  Then there's a pair of us — don't tell!
  They'd banish us, you know.
  
  How dreary to be somebody!
  How public, like a frog
  To tell your name the livelong day
  To an admiring bog!

I'll entertain guesses as to what March's theme will be. Except from Pam, who already knows.

Children's Poetry: Swinging and Sailing

Recent contributions on the theme of Children's Poetry:

• Rosemary posts a children's classic from Robert Louis Stevenson.
• Billy the Blogging Poet has written a whole blog of kid's poems. Try this one: The Great Gravy Boat.

There are only a few more days in February, so if you've planned to play along with the Children's Poetry theme, you'd better get on it right away. If you've posted a poem for kids, send me the link. Don't have a blog? Don't let that stop you! Post your poem in the comments of this post, and I'll use it.

Children's Poetry: Nash and More in the Morning

Morning Prayer

Now another day is breaking,
Sleep was sweet and so is waking.
Dear Lord, I promised you last night
Never again to sulk or fight.
Such vows are easier to keep
When a child is sound asleep.
Today, O Lord, for your dear sake,
I'll try to keep them when awake.

---Ogden Nash

Other contributions of children's poetry:

• Much more Ogden Nash at The Upward Call
  
• Winter Walk at A Sparrow's Home
• Why Computers Sometimes Crash at Hiraeth
• Update: And Lydia has contributed a few more poems: Another riddle, a poem about the lion that gets it just a little bit wrong, and part of The Farmer's Round.
  

And it's so much more fun when everyone contributes to the monthly theme here on the blog, so if you've posted a poem for kids, send me the link. Don't have a blog? Don't let that stop you! Post your poem in the comments of this post, and I'll use it.

Children's Poetry: Reader's Edition

In the comments, Judy contributes two poems by Eleanor Farjeon from her kindergarten teaching days.

What lovely names for girls there are!
There's Stella like the Evening Star,
And Sylvia like a rustling tree,
And Lola like a melody,
And Flora like a flowery morn,
And Sheila like a field of corn,
And Melusina like the moan
Of water. And there's Joan, like Joan.

What splendid names for boys there are!
There's Carol like a rolling car,
And Martin like a flying bird,
And Adam like the Lord's first word,
And Raymond like the Harvest Moon,
And Peter like a piper's tune,
And Alan like the flowing on
Of water. And there's John, like John

Jen of joythruChrist posts yet another cat poem by T. S. Eliot. In this house, we use simpler names for our cats, by the way.

Violet posts another one of her magnificent originals: My Place.

William Meisheid composed a poem with the boy-girl theme for us and put it in the comments:

Girls are soft, with rounded edges
Boys are hard, and burst through hedges

Girls will cry, and it ruins their day
Boys will sniffle, and be on their way

Girls all giggle, but mostly hold it in
Boys all guffah, with a sidesplitting grin

Girls be girls, and who can define?
Boys be boys, and mellow like wine

Isn't that fun?

And it's so much more fun when everyone contributes to the monthly theme here on the blog, so if you've posted a poem for kids, send me the link. Don't have a blog? Don't let that stop you! Post your poem in the comments of this post, and I'll use it.

Children's Poetry: Four for Boys

I'm nothing, if not evenhanded. First, we answer the constitutional question. (Well, at least we attempt to answer it. There are several recipes for boys, it seems.)

What Are Little Boys Made Of?

What are little boys made of?
Frogs and snails
And puppy-dogs' tails,
That's what little boys are made of.

---

And then we have a misbehaving male child, although this wild boy's parents seem positively wimpy compared to our horrid girl's emphatic mother.

The Story of Fidgety Philip

"Let me see if Philip can
Be a little gentleman;
Let me see if he is able
To sit still for once at table:"
Thus Papa bade Phil behave;
And Mamma looked very grave.
But fidgety Phil,
He won't sit still;
He wriggles,
And giggles,
And then, I declare,
Swings backwards and forwards,
And tilts up his chair,
Just like any rocking-horse-
"Philip! I am getting cross!"

See the naughty, restless child
Growing still more rude and wild,
Till his chair falls over quite.
Philip screams with all his might,
Catches at the cloth, but then
That makes matters worse again.
Down upon the ground they fall,
Glasses, plates, knives, forks, and all.
How Mamma did fret and frown,
When she saw them tumbling down!
And Papa made such a face!
Philip is in sad disgrace.

Where is Philip, where is he?
Fairly covered up you see!
Cloth and all are lying on him;
He has pulled down all upon him.
What a terrible to-do!
Dishes, glasses, snapped in two!
Here a knife, and there a fork!
Philip, this is cruel work.
Table all so bare, and ah!
Poor Papa, and poor Mamma
Look quire cross, and wonder how
They shall have their dinner now.

---Heinrich Hoffman

---

And from Robert Louis Stevenson:

Looking Forward

When I am grown to man's estate
I shall be very proud and great,
And tell the other girls and boy
Not to meddle with my toys.

---

Here's a classic that seems to have special appeal to young men. My husband liked it from the time he learned it in elementary school.

O Captain! My Captain!

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

---Walt Whitman

Also Related:

• Tulip Girl: Poetry for Boys

Here's how you can join in the children's poetry fun: Post a children's poem on your blog, let me know of it, and I'll link to you. Those who remain blogless, but still wish to participate, may post a poem in the comments of this post.

Children's Poetry: Four for Girls

Very important (and rather politically incorrect) update below!

When I was a little girl, I thought girls got a raw deal in this nursery rhyme. I preferred the stuff boys were made of, except for the puppy dog tails, of course. What sort of person would cut the tail off a puppy?

What are Little Girls Made Of?

What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice,
And everything nice,
That's what little girls are made of.

---

This next poem got my approval, partly because this little girl wasn't always sugar and spice, but mostly because I had a curl of my own in the middle of my forehead. I still do. It requires pinning or spraying so as not to hang in a spiral down the middle of my face.

There Was a Little Girl

There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of the forehead.
When she was good
She was very, very good,
But when she was bad she was horrid.

[Update: Thirsty David gives us stanzas 2 and 3 of this verse in the comments of this post. Can you see why they might be frequently forgotten when this poem is quoted?

I love them, although, if you ask me, the person who cuts off puppy dog tails and the mother who spanks most emphatic for hooraying with one's heels on one's little trundle-bed are two of a kind.]

One day she went upstairs,
When her parents, unawares,
In the kitchen were occupied with meals
And she stood upon her head
In her little trundle-bed,
And then began hooraying with her heels.

Her mother heard the noise,
And she thought it was the boys
A-playing at a combat in the attic;
But when she climbed the stair,
And found Jemima there,
She took and she did spank her most emphatic.

---Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

(Admit it. You thought this was just a generic nursery rhyme, too, didn't you?)

---

As you can probably guess, I rebelled against this one, too. Although eating lots of strawberries sounded tempting, why would anyone want to miss out on feeding the swine?

Curly Locks

Curly Locks, Curly Locks,
Will you be mine?
You shall not wash dishes,
Nor feed the swine,
But sit on a cushion
And sew a fine seam,
And sup upon strawberries,
Sugar, and cream.

---

And, for good measure, one more poem with a good little girl in it.

Good Night and Good Morning

A fair little girl sat under a tree,
Sewing as long as her eyes could see;
Then smoothed her work, and folded it right,
And said, "Dear work, good night! good night!"

Such a number of rooks came over her head,
Crying, "Caw! Caw!" on their way to bed;
She said, as she watched their curious flight,
"Little black things, good night! good night!"

The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed,
The sheep's "Bleat! bleat!" came over the road;
All seeming to say, with a quiet delight,
"Good little girl, good night! good night!"

She did not say to the sun, "Good night!"
Though she saw him there like a ball of light,
For she knew he had God's time to keep
All over the world, and never could sleep.

The tall pink foxglove bowed his head,
The violets curtsied and went to bed;
And good little Lucy tied up her hair,
And said on her knees her favourite prayer.

And while on her pillow she softly lay,
She knew nothing more till again it was day;
And all things said to the beautiful sun,
"Good morning! good morning! our work is begun!

---Richard Monckton Milnes, Lord Houghton

Sort of related: William Meisheid post a Valentine's Day poem for his wife, who once was a little girl.

Here's how you can join in the fun: Post a children's poem on your blog, let me know of it, and I'll link to you. Those who remain blogless, but still wish to participate, may post a poem in the comments of this post.

Children's Poetry: Sometimes That Old Gray Goose Is Just Dead

The title to this post is a quote from Julana. I'm posting this child's song just for her.

Go Tell Aunt Rhody

Go tell Aunt Rhody,
Go tell Aunt Rhody,
Go tell Aunt Rhody
The old gray goose is dead.

The one she's been saving,
The one she's been saving,
The one she's been saving
To make a feather bed.

The goslings are mourning,
The goslings are mourning,
The goslings are mourning,
Because their mother's dead.

The old gander's weeping,
The old gander's weeping,
The old gander's weeping,
Because his wife is dead.

She died in the mill pond,
She died in the mill pond,
She died in the mill pond
From standing on her head.

Go tell Aunt Rhody,
Go tell Aunt Rhody,
Go tell Aunt Rhody
The old gray goose is dead.

Here's what Julana has to say about this:

Everyone at my son's school is supposed to couch everything in positive terms all the time. If a child throws trash on the floor, say: "We need to take care of the school. Is throwing litter on the floor taking care of the school?" No negatives allowed.

Sometimes, that old gray goose is just dead--and the goslings cry and gander weeps.

Yep, and sometimes the hare dies, too.

Epitaph on a Hare

Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Nor swifter greyhound follow,
Whose footprints ne'er tainted morning dew,
Nor ear heard huntsman's "Hallo,"

Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
Who, nursed with tender care,
And to domestic bounds confined,
Was still a wild jack-hare.

Though duly from my hand he took
His pittance every night,
He did it with a jealous look,
And, when he could, would bite.

His diet was of wheaten bread,
And milk, and oats, and straw,
Thistles, or lettuces instead,
With sand to scour his maw.

On twigs of hawthorn he regaled,
On pippins' russet peel;
And, when his juicy salads failed,
Sliced carrot pleased him well.

A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
Whereon he loved to bound,
To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing his rump around.

His frisking was at evening hours,
For then he lost his fear;
But most before approaching showers,
Or when a storm drew near.

Eight years and five round-rolling moons
He thus saw steal away,
Dozing out his idle noons,
And every night at play.

I kept him for his humor's sake,
For he would oft beguile
My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
And force me to a smile.

But now, beneath this walnut-shade
He finds his long, last home,
And waits in snug concealment laid,
Till gentler Puss shall come.

He, still more aged, feels the shocks
From which no care can save,
And, partner once of Tiney's box,
Must soon partake his grave.

---William Cowper, better known as a hymn writer (There Is a Fountain Filled with Blood, God Moves in a Mysterious Way) than a writer of poems about dead rabbits. Puss and Tiney, by the way, were Cowper's pet hares. Tiney lived to the ripe old age of eight, and Puss lived on for four more years until he was twelve.

More children's poetry

• You can thank Jen of joythruChrist that this post is not completely depressing. She posts a poem about a pet that's still alive. At least for now.

Have you posted a poem for children? A poem that your children like? A poem that you liked as a child? Or maybe you are a child, and you've posted a poem that you like! Please send me the link by email or in the comments of this post and I'll link to you in the next Children's Poetry post.

Children's Poetry: One More for the Stairs and Two More

• In the comments on yesterday's kid's poetry selection, Anthony gives us a version of The Man Who Wasn't There that he learned from a friend when he was in high school. How's this for a poem to amuse your kids?

  Yesterday upon the stair,
  I met a man who wasn't there.
  He wasn't there again today,
  He must be from the CIA!

• Kim from The Upward Call posts The Highwayman, a poem she first learned of in grade 7.
• Kim of Hireath posts one from McGuffey's Primer, a lesson in verse for everyone.
  

Have you posted a poem for children? A poem that your children like? A poem that you liked as a child? Or maybe you are a child, and you've posted a poem that you like! Please send me the link by email or in the comments of this post and I'll link to you in the next Children's Poetry post.

Children's Poetry: Two For the Stairs

A Man Who Wasn't There

Yesterday upon the stair
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today
Oh how I wish he'd go away.

---William Hughes Mearns, in Antigonish. There are several versions of this poem, but this is how it was originally penned by Professor Hearns.

Halfway Down

Halfway down the stairs
is a stair
where i sit.
there isn't any
other stair
quite like
it.
i'm not at the bottom,
i'm not at the top;
so this is the stair
where
I always
stop.


Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up
And it isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery,
It isn't in town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head.
It isn't really
Anywhere!
It's somewhere else
Instead!

---A. A. Milne. The Muppet Show version, sung by Robin, was popular at my house when the children were very young. I couldn't find an mp3 file for you, but you can hear it behind this video at YouTube.

And there's more:

• At joythruChrist, we have a poem about a cat from T. S. Eliot.
• Candyinsierras remembers liking this one:

  On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,
  and cast a wishful eye
  to Canaan's fair and happy land,
  where my possessions lie.
  
  Refrain:
  I am bound for the promised land,
  I am bound for the promised land;
  oh, who will come and go with me?
  I am bound for the promised land.

  "I sang this song in sixth grade. . ." she says. "It is amazing that so many years later I remember the words to the first verse and the chorus. I loved our hour long music lessons."
  
• Violet post another one of her wonderful children's poems: Mrs. Beasley Packed Her Purse. Now don't tell me that one shouldn't be published! I see it as a whole picture book.
  

Boy, did I mess up the formatting on this one first time round! Copied and pasted way too much, and then ran off for the rest of the day.

If you're not afraid of my formatting mistakes, go ahead and participate in this month's children's poetry fun. Post a poem for kids on your blog and send me the link, and if you haven't a blog, just post your poem in the comments here. The more, the merrier, as always.

Children's Poetry: The Children's Hour

Here's one I memorized in fifth grade. I no longer know anything but the first verse by heart. I really liked it way back then, but I find it more than a little sappy now. And what's with all the exclamation points?

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret
O'er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.

And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
And moulder in dust away!

---Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Other children's poetry posted recently:

• Daddy Fell Into The Pond at The Upward Call
• Benjamin shares a poem about work at Lux Venit
  

You can join in this month's fun, too. Just post a poem for children on your blog and send me the link by email or in the comments. Haven't a blog? You can still participate by posting a poem in the comments of this post.

Children's Poetry: Classic Canadian and More

From Canadian poet Dennis Lee's collection of children's poems, we have Alligator Pie, from Alligator Pie.

Alligator pie, alligator pie,
If I don't get some I think I'm gonna die.
Give away the green grass, give away the sky,
But don't give away my alligator pie.

Alligator stew, alligator stew,
If I don't get some I don't know what I'll do.
Give away my furry hat, give away my shoe,
But don't give away my alligator stew.

Alligator soup, alligator soup,
If I don't get some I think I'm gonna droop.
Give away my hockey stick, give away my hoop,
But don't give away my alligator soup.

Dennis Lee poems posted previously:

• The Sitter and the Butter and the Better Batter Fritter
• A Cautionary Tale
  

More children's poetry posted today:

• William Wilberforce and one of Hannah's favorites all rolled into one post at Lux Venit.
• Cindy of Notes in the Key of Life posts poems from The Golden Treasury of Poetry.
• Kim of Hireath has another one from Tolkien: The Bath Song.
  

You can join in this month's fun, too. Just post a poem for children on your blog and send me the link by email or in the comments. Haven't a blog? You can still participate by posting a poem in the comments of this post.

Children's Poetry: Two Keys, a Frog and a Turtle

• Today at Lux Venit there's a poem that Benjamin memorized.
• Pam of a rustling of leaves..... shares a poem from her grandmother's composition book.
• Diane has the Lock and Key Poem, and it'll make you laugh.

You can join in this month's fun, too. Just post a poem for children on your blog and send me the link by email or in the comments. Haven't a blog? You can still participate by posting a poem in the comments of this post.

Finally Featuring Louis Slobodkin

Ian McKenzie guessed correctly that last week's mystery artist was Louis Slobodkin, illustrator of one of my favorite children's books, The Hundred Dresses by Eleanor Estes. Before Louis was an illustrator of children's books, he was a sculptor, and you saw a couple of his sculptures in the two mystery artist posts. The one of young Abe Lincoln was done for the 1939 New York Worlds Fair, but it was never exhibited there.

. . . when the Slobodkins arrived at the Fair on opening day to inspect the installation, they were informed by a doorman: "'Taint here any more." The shocking word quickly went round that workmen had demolished the statue on order of Theodore Hayes, Executive Assistant to the Federal Commissioner for the World's Fair, Edward Flynn. Five days later, Slobodkin told The New York Times that, according to a source in Washington, his sculpture had indeed been set upon with sledgehammers, reportedly because a lady who "lunched with Flynn" had not found it to be in "good taste."

It's hard for me to imagine, looking back from my vantage point close to 70 years later, what it was about Slobodkin's young Abe that the woman found not in "good taste". What could it be? That it was a little exaggerated, and not entirely realistic? I feel a little better knowing that the destruction of the Rail Joiner caused plenty of controversy, even drawing Eleanor Roosevelt, who was disheartened by what happened to the statue, into the fray.

Not long after this incident, Louis Slobodkin met Eleanor Estes, who was able to persuade him to illustrate her children's book The Moffats, and he went on to illustrate two more books on the Moffat family. Don't the pictures in the Moffat books (example on the left) look as if they were done by a sculptor?

Another book illustrated by Louis--the one for which he was awarded a Caldecott Medal, and a favorite of many--is James Thurber's Many Moons, the story of the little princess who wants the moon.

However, Louis Slobodkin didn't just illustrate other people's books; he illustrated 50 that he wrote himself. One of my favorites of those he wrote is Hustle and Bustle, the story of two hippos in the zoo.

They were very good friends—

VERY, VERY, VERY GOOD FRIENDS!

Until the day it became obvious to everyone that the friendship ended.

When I did the series of mystery artist posts last year, I wanted to feature Louis Slobodkin, but couldn't find much about him on the internet. I knew he'd been a sculptor, but there just weren't any photos of his work. So imagine how happy I was to recieve an email from Carol Reid, pointing me to her new website featuring Louis Slobodkin. Just about everything there is to know about Louis is there all in one place, including all the information and the quotes in this post. You'll find the sculptures, the children's books, The New Yorker cartoons, and much more.

This is one of Louis Slobodkin's cartoons in The New Yorker. Can't read the caption? Put your cursor over the cartoon or click for the larger version. What do you think? I'd say it might be a good thing he concentrated most on his children's books.

Children's Poetry: Mature Subject Matter?

I've already posted one poem from Christina Rossetti's collection of nursery rhymes, Sing-Song. Many of Christina's nursery rhymes are hauntingly profound (like this one), and a few of her rhymes contained subject matter that was later considered inappropriate for young children, so these pieces were edited out of more recent editions.

What is the taboo subject? Why death, of course!

Perhaps it's right for us to shield our children from this difficult reality. In Christina's time, however, many children would have experienced the death of members of their own family. Protecting children from it was not an option. So Christina wrote rhymes for children about babies dying--and mothers dying, too--and mothers and fathers and aunts and grandmas read or recited them to the little ones.


A Baby's Cradle
A baby's cradle with no baby in it,
A baby's grave where autumn leaves drop sere;
The sweet soul gathered home to Paradise,
The body waiting here.

Why Did Baby Die?
Why did baby die,
Making Father sigh,
Mother cry?

Flowers, that bloom to die,
Make no reply
Of "why?"
But bow and die.

Motherless Baby
Motherless baby and babyless mother,

Bring them together to love one another.

Notice the suggestions of hope for eternity and purpose in death. I suspect the children exposed to these rhymes, mature subject matter and all, were richer for it.

What do you think? Are these sorts of nursery rhymes appropriate for children?

February's theme here is children's poetry, and you are invited to join in.

Children's Poetry: Lots of Links

I love it when so many people participate!

Lydia Mae has another poem for us. This one is a riddle, and she provides the answer here.

At Lux Venit, Leslie's children are posting their favorite poems to her blog this week, and first up is Hannah with Boa Constrictor.

Annette of Fish and Cans give us two nursery rhymes.

Ian McKenzie posts one from the master: Too Many Daves.

Violet charms us with one of her own poem creations. How much fun for a child to say all those ocean creature names!

Rosemary has a little Valentine's Day verse she composed as a little girl.

At Hiraeth, it's a a poem from Tolkein.

And it's The Song of Mr. Toad at the Upward Call.

You can play along with this month's theme activities, too. You'll find participation instructions here.

Children's Poetry: How Much Wood?

Yes, I know calling this poetry is stretching things more than a little, but it seemed appropriate for today. (You know it's Groundhog Day, right?)

How much wood
Would a woodchuck chuck,
If a woodchuck
Could chuck wood?

As much wood
As a woodchuck would,
If a woodchuck
Could chuck wood.

Here in Whitehorse, we would be very disappointed, and maybe just a little panicked, if there were not six more weeks of winter.

(Intructions for participating in this month's children's poetry fun.)

Children's Poetry: How Many Seconds?

How many seconds in a minute?
Sixty, and no more in it.

How many minutes in an hour?
Sixty for sun and shower.

How many hours in a day?
Twenty-four for work and play.

How many days in a week?
Seven both to hear and speak.

How many weeks in a month?
Four, as the swift moon runn'th.

How many months in a year?
Twelve the almanack makes clear.

How many years in an age?
One hundred says the sage.

How many ages in time?
No one knows the rhyme.

---Christina Rossetti, in Sing-Song, A Nursery Rhyme Book

Other children's poems contributed already:

• Pam of a rustling of leaves posted a very cute poem she learned from her Grandma Anna.
  
• Jane, who doesn't have a blog, contributed a favorite nursery rhyme in the comments. (This is one of my favorites, too.)
  
• Kim of Hiraeth posts Rebecca, a very funny poem that (oddly enough) I'd never heard before, along with G4 (unfamiliar to me, too). Kim says both of these poems fall into the category of poems "all children everywhere should like if they know what's good for them."
• Update: Lydia Mae, whose email got lost amidst all the others this morning (Sorry about that, Lydia!), posts Birthdays. (Find out a little more about Lydia here.)
  

You, too, can play along with this month's theme activities. You'll find participation instructions here.

It's A New Month

so I need a new theme.

A couple of years ago, I set aside a blog week and posted a poem for children each day. But the list of children's poems I like can't be exhausted by seven posts of poems, so this time around let's make it a whole month. (Not that I promise to post a poem a day!)

February's theme, then, will be children's poetry, and I invite you to join me in the fun. How can you participate? Post a poem that's written for children, or a poem you liked when you were a child, or a poem one of your children likes, or a poem you think all children everywhere should like if they know what's good for them. [Update: Or if you're a child, post a poem you like.] Send me the link by email (Click on Contact by Email in the sidebar.) or in the comments here and I'll link to you in one of the poetry for children posts.

Ready, set, go!

Another Piece By The Mystery Artist

Yesterday I posted a photo of a bronze bust done by a classic children's author-illustrator, and challenged you to guess which illustrator created the piece. No one guessed correctly, so I'm adding another piece, another sculpture, this one of the young Abe Lincoln. This reminds me more of this artist's illustrations in children's books, so perhaps you will find it more helpful for identifying the artist.

This sculpture was created for exhibit at the New York World's Fair. There are at least a couple of other clues for you in the photo.

You can also click on the photo for a larger version of it, if you think that will help. And googling is within the rules of the game, although I can't promise you'll find that helpful.

Update: Ian McKenzie has guessed correctly, much to the disappointment of candyinsierras, who succeeded in googling the answer, only to find that Ian beat her to it. You'll have to read the comments to find the answer. Watch for a short post on the life of this illustrator as soon as I can manage it, and a link to a new website featuring his work.

Reprising the Mystery Artist Game

Do you remember it? We played it last year with three children's book author-illustrators: Wanda Gag, Virginia Lee Burton and William Steig.

It's time to play again. This time, too, our mystery artist has written and illustrated children's books; although with this particular artist, you may be most familiar with books illustrated for other authors.

Here's a bronze bust sculpted by our mystery artist. Can you guess which children's book illustrator created this?


As always, if you can't guess from this piece, there will be more examples of this artist's work posted later to give you a few more clues.