Ambleside Online Year 1 Poetry Anthology January

Expanded and Re-organized

Compiled and arranged by Leslie Noelani Laurio, April, 2005
All of these poems are believed to be in the public domain. If this is in error and you own the copyright to any of these poems, please let me know and I will remove it from this page.

01 A Serenade for New Year's Eve, Author unknown
02 New Year Snow, by Edith Nesbit, 1858-1924
03 The First Snowfall, by James Russell Lowell , 1819-1891
04 Topsy-Turvy World, by William Brighty Rands, 1823-1882
05 On the Bridge, by Kate Greenaway, 1846-1901
06 Little Orphant Annie, by James Whitcomb Riley, 1849--1916
07 Velvet Shoes, by Elinor Wylie, 1885--1928
08 A Calendar, by Sara Coleridge, 1802--1852
09 Chickadee, by Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1803-1882
10 White Fields, by James Stephens published, 1909
11 The Yak, by Hillaire Belloc, 1870-1953
12 Let Something Good Be Said, by James Whitcomb Riley, 1849-1916
13 Night, by Sara Teasdale, 1884-1933
14 Certainty, by Emily Dickinson, 1830-1886
15 Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll, 1832-1898
16 Little Pussy, by Jane Taylor, 1783-1824
17 Song for a Little House, by Christopher Morley, 1890-1957
18 O Wind, by Christina Rossetti, 1830-1894
19 The Cupboard, by Walter de la Mare, 1873-1956
20 On Another's Sorrow, by William Blake, 1757-1827

01 A Serenade for New Year's Eve, author unknown

The old year departed, how swiftly it flew,
'Tis gone, and with rapture we welcome the new;--
We trust a bright morning will dawn on your eyes,--
And sun beams unclouded illumine the skies.
Then wake from your slumbers, our serenade hear,--
We wish you a happy, a happy New Year!

02 New Year Snow, by Edith Nesbit, 1858-1924

The white snow falls on hill and dale,
 The snow falls white by square and street,
Falls on the town, a bridal veil,
 And on the fields a winding-sheet.

A winding-sheet for last year's flowers,
 For last year's love, and last year's tear,
A bridal veil for the New Hours,
 For the New Love and the New Year.

Soft snow, spread out his winding-sheet!
 Spin fine her veil, O bridal snow!
Cover the print of her dancing feet,
 And the place where he lies low.

03 The First Snowfall, by James Russell Lowell , 1819-1891

The snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
With a silence deep and white.

Every pine and fir and hemlock
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm tree
Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

04 Topsy-Turvy World, by William Brighty Rands, 1823-1882
    
If the butterfly courted the bee,
And the owl the porcupine;
If churches were built in the sea,
And three times one was nine;
If the pony rode his master,
If the buttercups ate the cows,
If the cats had the dire disaster
To be worried, sir, by the mouse;
If mamma, sir, sold the baby
To a gypsy for half a crown;
If a gentleman, sir, was a lady,--
The world would be Upside-down!
If any or all of these wonders
Should ever come about,
I should not consider them blunders,
For I should be Inside-out!

Ba-ba, black wool,
Have you any sheep?
Yes, sir, a packfull,
Creep, mouse, creep!
Four-and-twenty little maids
Hanging out the pie,
Out jump'd the honey-pot,
Guy Fawkes, Guy!
Cross latch, cross latch,
Sit and spin the fire;
When the pie was open'd,
The bird was on the brier!

05 On the Bridge, by Kate Greenaway, 1846-1901

If I could see a little fish--
That is what I just now wish!
I want to see his great round eyes
Always open in surprise.

I wish a water-rat would glide
Slowly to the other side;
Or a dancing spider sit
On the yellow flags a bit.

I think I'll get some stones to throw,
And watch the pretty circles show.
Or shall we sail a flower boat,
And watch it slowly--slowly float?

That's nice--because you never know
How far away it means to go;
And when tomorrow comes, you see,
It may be in the great wide sea.

06 Little Orphant Annie, by James Whitcomb Riley, 1849--1916

Inscribed, with All Faith and Affection:
To all the little children:--the happy ones; and sad ones;
The sober and the silent ones; the boisterous and glad ones;
The good ones--Yes, the good ones, too; and all the lovely bad ones.

Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
An' all us other children, when the supper-things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
Ef you
 Don't
     Watch
         Out!

Wunst they wuz a little boy woudn't say his prayers,--
An' when he went to bed at night, away up-stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wuzn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'-wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found wuz thist his pants an' roundabout:--
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
 Don't
     Watch
         Out!

An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever' one, an' all her blood-an'-kin;
An' wunst, when they was "company," an' ole folks wuz there,
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They wuz two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
 Don't
     Watch
         Out!

An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp-wick sputter, an' the wind goes woo--oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,--
You better mind yer parunts, an' yer teachurs fond an' dear,
An' cherish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
 Don't
     Watch
         Out!

07 Velvet Shoes, by Elinor Wylie 1885--1928

Let us walk in the white snow
In a soundless space;
With footsteps quiet and slow,
At a tranquil pace,
Under veils of white lace.

I shall go shod in silk,
And you in wool,
White as a white cow's milk,
More beautiful
Than the breast of a gull.

We shall walk through the still town
In a windless peace;
We shall step upon white down,
Upon silver fleece,
Upon softer than these.

We shall walk in velvet shoes:
Wherever we go
Silence will fall like dews
On white silence below.
We shall walk in the snow.

08 A Calendar, by Sara Coleridge, 1802-1852

January brings the snow,
Makes our feet and fingers glow.

February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again.

March brings breezes, loud and shrill,
To stir the dancing daffodil.

April brings the primrose sweet,
Scatters daisies at our feet.

May brings flocks of pretty lambs
Skipping by their fleecy dams.

June brings tulips, lilies, roses,
Fills the childrens hands with posies.

Hot July brings cooling showers,
Apricots and gillyflowers.

August brings the sheaves of corn,
Then the harvest home is borne.

Warm Septemper brings the fruit;
Sportsmen then begin to shoot.

Fresh October brings the pheasant;
Then to gather nuts is pleasant.

Dull November brings the blast;
Then the leaves are whirling fast.

Chill December brings the sleet,
Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.

09 Chickadee, by Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1803-1882

Then piped a tiny voice hard by,
Gay and polite, a cheerful cry,
"Chick-a-dee-dee!" a saucy note
Out of sound heart and merry throat
As if it said, "Good day, good sir!
Fine afternoon, old passenger!
Happy to meet you in these places
Where January brings few faces."

10 White Fields, by James Stephens published, 1909

In the winter time we go
Walking in the fields of snow;
Where there is no grass at all;
Where the top of every wall,
Every fence and every tree,
Is as white, as white can be.

Pointing out the way we came,
Everyone of them the same--
All across the fields there be
Prints in silver filigree;
And our mothers always know,
By our footprints in the snow,
Where the children go.

11 The Yak, by Hillaire Belloc, 1870-1953
       from The Bad Child's Book of Beasts, 1897

As a friend to the children
Commend me the Yak.
You will find it exactly the thing:
It will carry and fetch, you can ride on its back,
Or lead it about with a string.

The Tartar who dwells on the plains of Thibet
(A desolate region of snow)
Has for centuries made it a nursery pet,
And surely the Tartar should know!
Then tell your papa where the Yak can be got,
And if he is awfully rich
He will buy you the creature--
or else
   he will not.
(I cannot be positive which.)

12 Let Something Good Be Said, by James Whitcomb Riley, 1849-1916

When over the fair fame of friend or foe
The shadow of disgrace shall fall; instead
Of words of blame, or proof of thus and so,
Lets something good be said.

Forget not that no fellow-being yet
May fall so low but love may lift his head;
Even the cheek of shame with tears is wet,
If something good is said.

No generous heat may vainly turn aside
In way so sympathy: no soul so dead
But may awaken strong and glorified,
If something good is said.

And so I charge ye, by the thorny crown,
And by the cross on which the Savior bled,
And by your own soul's fair renown,
Let something good be said.

13 Night, by Sara Teasdale, 1884-1933

Stars over snow,
And in the west a planet
Swinging below a star--
Look for a lovely thing and you will find it.
It is not far--
It never will be far.

14 Certainty, by Emily Dickinson, 1830-1886

I never saw a moor,
I never saw the sea;
Yet know I how the heather looks,
And what a wave must be.

I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven;
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the chart were given.

15 Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll, 1832-1898

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
long time the manzome foe he sought--
so rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
he went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

16 Little Pussy, by Jane Taylor, 1783-1824

I like little pussy, her coat is so warm;
And if I don't hurt her, she'll do me no harm.
So I'll not pull her tail, nor drive her away,
But Pussy and I very gently will play.
She shall sit by my side, and I'll give her some food;
And she'll love me because I am gentle and good.

I'll pat little Pussy, and then she will purr;
And thus show her thanks for my kindness to her.
I'll not pinch her ears, nor tread on her paw,
Lest I should provoke her to use her sharp claw.
I never will vex her, nor make her displeased--
For Pussy can't bear to be worried or teased.

17 Song for a Little House, by Christopher Morley, 1890-1957
       from Chimneysmoke, 1923

I'm glad our house is a little house,
Not too tall nor too wide:
I'm glad the hovering butterflies
Feel free to come inside.

Our little house is a friendly house.
It is not shy or vain;
It gossips with the talking trees,
And makes friends with the rain.

And quick leaves cast a shimmer of green
Against our whited walls,
And in the phlox, the dutious bees
Are paying duty calls.

18 O wind, why do you never rest, by Christina Rossetti, 1830-1894

O wind, why do you never rest
Wandering, whistling to and fro,
Bringing rain out of the west,
From the dim north bringing snow?

19 The Cupboard, by Walter de la Mare, 1873-1956

I know a little cupboard,
With a teeny tiny key,
And there's a jar of Lollypops
  For me, me, me.

It has a little shelf, my dear,
As dark as dark can be,
And there's a dish of Banbury Cakes
  For me, me, me.

I have a small fat grandmamma,
With a very slippery knee,
And she's the Keeper of the Cupboard
  With the key, key, key.

And when I'm very good, my dear,
As good as good can be,
There's Banbury Cakes, and Lollypops
  For me, me, me

20 On Another's Sorrow, by William Blake, 1757-1827

Can I see another's woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another's grief,
And not seek for kind relief?

Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow's share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?

Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!

And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird's grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear --

And not sit beside the nest,
Pouring pity in their breast,
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant's tear?

And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
O no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!

He doth give His joy to all:
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe,
He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not near.

O He gives to us His joy,
That our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled and gone
He doth sit by us and moan.