I have read numerous poems. I have always enjoyed poems and stories meant for
children. I don't know if it is because I am immature or because I like poems
that rhyme. Well, whatever it is, I have gathered together some poems meant
children. I hope to expand the list soon. Just click on the poem title to view
Check out this new poetry page Poetry 4 Kids. This is a great site created by Kenn Nesbitt, children's poet. It has a wonderful selection of his poetry and some great links.
Monday's child is fair of face, Tuesday's child is full of grace, Wednesday's child is full of woe Thursday's child has far to go, Friday's child is loving and giving, Saturday's child works hard for its living, And a child that's born on the Sabbath day Is blithe and bonny and good and gay.Back to the Poems for Children
Whether the weather be fine, Or whether the weather be not, Whether the wether be cold, Or whether the weather be hot, We'll weather the weather Whatever the weather, Whether we like it or not!Back to the Poems for Children
Though the house what busy joy, Just because the infant boy Hs a tiny tooth to show! I have got a double row, All as white and all as small; Yet no one cares for mine at all. He can say but half a word, Yet that single sound's preferred To all the words that I can say In the longest summer day. He cannot walk, yet if he put With mimic motion out his foot, As if he thought he were advancing, It's prized more than my best dancing.Back to the Poems for Children
A was an Archer who shot at a frong B was a Butcher who kept a bulldog C was a Captain all covered with lace D was a Drummer who played with much grace E was an Esquire with pride on his brow F was a Farmer who followed the plough G was a Gamester who had but ill-luck H was a Hunter and hunted a buck I was an Italian who had a white mouse J was a Jointer and built up a house K was a King so might and grand L was a Lady who had a white hand M was a Miser who hoarded up gold N was a Nobleman gallant and bold O was an Organ boy who played about town P was a Parson who wore a black gown Q was a Queen who was fond of her people R was a Robin who perched on a steeple S was a Sailor who spent all he got T was a Tinker who mended a pot U was an Usher who loved little boys V was a Veteran who sold pretty toys W was a Watchmen who guarded the door X was eXpensive and so becam poor Y was a Youth who did not love school Z was a Zany who looked a great foolBack to the Poems for Children
"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 Mama 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 fll, Glasses, plates, knives, forks and all. How Mama 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 Mama Look quite cross, and wonder how They shall have their dinner now.Back to the Poems for Children
Girls and boys, come out to play, the moon doth shine as bright as day, Leave your supper and leave your sleep, And come with your playfellows into the street. Come with a whoop or come with a call, Come with a goodwill or not at all. Up the ladder and down the wall, A halfpenny roll will serve us all. You find milk and I'll find flour, And we'll have a pudding in half an hour!Back to the Poems for Children
If no one ever marries me - And I don't see why they should, For nurse syas I'm not pretty, And I'm seldom very good - If no one ever marries me I shan't mind very much, I shall buy a squirrel in a cage And a little rabbit-hutch; I shall have a cottage near a wood, And a pony all my own And a little lamb, quite clean and tame, That I can take to town. And when I'm getting really old - At twenty-eight or nine - I shall buy a little orphan-girl And bring her up as mine.Back to the Poems for Children
Sleep, by babe, lie still and slumber, All through the night; Guardian angels God will lend thee, All through thenight; Soft and drowsy hours are creeping, Hill and vale in slumber lseeping, Mother dear her watch is keeping, All through the night. God is here, thou'lt not be lonely, All through thenight; 'Tis not I who guards thee only, All through the night. Night's dark shades will soon be over, Still my watchful care shall hover, God with me His watch is keeping, All through the night.Back to the Poems for Children
Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. When the blazing sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon, Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. Then the traveller in the dark, Thanks you for your tiny spark, He could not see which way to go, If you did not twinkle so. In the dark blue sky you keep, And often through my curtains peep, For you never shut your eye, Till the sun is in the sky. As your bright and tiny spark, Lights the traveller in the dark - Though I know not what you are, Twinkle, twinkle, little star.Back to the Poems for Children
Sing a song of sixpence, A pocket full of rye; Four and twenty blackbirds Baked in a pie! When the pie was opened The birds began to sing; Was not that dainty dish To set before the king? The king was in his counting-house Counting all his money; The queen was in the parlour, Eating bread and honey. The maid was in the garden, Hanging out the clothes; When down came a blackbird And snapped off her nose.Back to the Poems for Children
The Queen of Hearts, She made some tarts, All on a summer's day, The Knave of Hearts, He stole the tarts, And took them clean away. The King o Hearts Called for the tarts And beat the Knave full sore. The Knave of Hearts Brought back the tarts, And vowed he'd steal no more.Back to the Poems for Children
The daughter of the farrier Could find no one to marry her, Because she said She would not wed A man who could not carry her. The foolish girl was wrong enough, And had to wait quite long enough; For as she sat She grew so fat That nobody was strong enough.Back to the Poems for Children
It's a very odd thing-- As odd as can be-- That watever Miss T. eats Turns into Miss T.; Porridge and apples, Mince, muffins and mutton, Jam, junket, jumbles-- Not a rap, not a button It matters; the moment They're out of her plate, Though shared by Miss Butcher And sour Mr. Bate; Tiny and cheerful,And neat as can be, Whatever Miss T. eats Turns into Miss T.Back to the Poems for Children!
Once there was an elephant, Who tried to use the 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!)Back to the Poems for Children!
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.Back to the Poems for Children!
Poor old Jonathan Bing Went out in his carriage to visit the King, But everyone pointed and said, "Look at that! Jonathan Bing has forgotten his hat!" (He'd forgotten his hat!) Poor old Jonathan Bing Went home and put on a new hat for the King, But by the palace the soldier said, "Hi! You can't see the King; you've forgotten your tie!" (He'd forgotten his tie!) Poor old Jonathan Bing, He put on a beautiful tie for the King, But when he arrived, and Archbishop said, "Ho! You can't come to court in pajamas, you know!" Poor old Jonathan Bing Went home and addressed a short note to the King: "If you please will excuse me, I won't come to tea; For home's the best place for all people like me!"Back to the Poems for Children!
Granpa 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.Back to the Poems for Children!
Oh, Johnny Fife and Johnny's wife To save their toes and heels, They built themselves a little house That ran on rolling wheels. They hung their parrot at the door Upon a painted ring, And round and round the world they went And never missed a thing; And when they wished to eat they ate, And after they had fed, They crawled beneath a crazy quilt And gaily went to bed; And what they cared to keep they kept, And what they both did not, They poked beneath a picket fence And quietly forgot. Oh, Johnny Fife and Johnny's wife, They took their brush and comb, And round and round the world they went And also stayed at home.Back to the Poems for Children!
I know a funny little man, As quiet as a mouse, Who does the mischief that is done In everybody's house! There's no one ever sees his face, And yet we all agree That every plate we break was cracked By Mr. Nobody. 'Tis he who always tears our books, Who leaves the door ajar, He pulls the buttons from our shirts, And scatters pins afar; That squeaking door will always squeak, For, prithee, don't you see, We leave the oiling to be done By Mr. Nobody. He puts damp wood upon the fire, That kettles cannot boil; His are the feet that bring in mud, And all the carpets soiled. The papers always are mislaid, Who had them last but he? There's no one tosses them about But Mr. Nobody. The finger marks upon the door By none of us are made; We never leave the blinds unclosed, To let the curtains fade. The ink we never spill; the boots that lying round you see Are not our boots -- they all belong To Mr. Nobody.Back to the Poems for Children!
'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogroves, 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 manxome 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 borogroves, And the mome raths outgrabe.
Wynken, Blynken and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe-- Sailed on a river of crystal light Into a sea of dew. "Where are you going and what do you wish?" The old moon asked the three. "We have come to fish for the herring fish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of silver and gold have we!" Said Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. The old moon laughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe, And the wind that sped them all night long Ruffled the waves of dew. The little stars were the herring fish That lived in that beautiful sea-- "Now cast your nets wherever you wish-- Never afeard are we!" So cried the stars to the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, and Nod. All night long their nets they threw To the stars in the twinkling foam. Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, Bringing the fishermen home. 'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed As if it could not be And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed Of sailing that beautiful sea-- But I shall name you the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, and Nod. Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, And Nod is a little head, And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies Is a wee one's trundle bed. So shut your eyes while mother sings Of wonderful sights that be, And you shall see the beautiful things As you rock in the misty sea, Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.Back to the Poems for Children!
Antonio, Antonio Was tired of living alonio. He thought he would woo Miss Lissamy Lu, Miss Lissamy Lucy Molonio. Antonio, Antonio, Rode off on his polo-ponio. He found the fair maid In a bowery shade, A-sitting and knitting alonio. Antonio, Antonio, Said, "If you will be my ownio, I'll love you true, And I'll buy for you An icery creamery conio!" Oh, Nonio, Antonio! You're far too bleak and bonio! And all that I wish, You singular fish, Is that you will quickly begonio." Antonio, Antonio, He uttered a dismal moanio; Then he ran off and hid (Or I'm told that he did) In the Antecatarctical Zonio.Back to The Ballads!
Ho, for the Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee! He was as wicked as wicked could be, But oh, he was perfectly gorgeous to see! The Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee. His conscience, of course, was as black as a bat, But he had a floppety plume on his hat And when he went walking it jiggled - like that! The plume of the Pirate Dowdee. His coat it was handsome and cut with a slash, And often as ever he twirled his mustache Deep down in the ocean the mermaids went splash, Because of Don Durk of Dowdee. Moreover, Dowdee had a purple tattoo, And struck in his belt where he buckled it through Were a dagger, a dirk, and a squizzamaroo, For fierce was the Pirate Dowdee. So feaful he was he would shoot at a puff, And always at sea when the weather grew rough He drank from a bottle and wrote on his cuff, Did Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee. Oh, he had a cutlass that swung at his thigh And he had a parrot called Pepperkin Pye, And a zigzaggy scar at the end of his eye Had Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee. He kept in a cavern, this buccaneer bold, A curious chest that was covered with mould, And all of his pockets were jingly with gold! Oh jing! went the gold of Dowdee. His consience, of course it was crook'd like a squash, But both of his boots made a slickery slosh, And he went throught the world with a wonderful swash, Did Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee. It's ture he was wicked as wicked could be, His sins they outnumbered a hundred and three, But oh, he was perfectly gorgeous to see, The Pirate Don Durk of Dowdee.Back to The Ballads!
Part One The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding-- Riding--riding-- The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door. He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin; A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin. They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to his thigh! And he rode with a jeweled twinkle, his rapier hilt a-twinkle, His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky. Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard, He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred, He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter-- Bess, the landlord's daughter-- Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair. And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked Where Tim, the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked; His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like moldy hay, But he loved the landlord's daughter-- the landlord's red-lipped daughter; Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-- "One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize to-night, but I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light. Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, Then look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way." He stood upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand, But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling ov'er his breast, And he kissed its waves in the moonlight, (Oh sweet black waves in the moonlight!), Then he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West. Part Two He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon. And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon, When the road was a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor, The redcoat troops came marching-- Marching--marching-- King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door. They said no word to the landlord; they drank his ale instead, But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;. Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets by their side!; There was death at every window; And hell at one dark window; For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride. They had bound her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest! hey had tied a rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast! Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say -- "Look for me by moonlight, Watch for me by moonlight, I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way." She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good! She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood! they stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years, ill, now, on the stroke of midnight, Cold, on the stroke of midnight, The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers! The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest; Up, she stood up at attention, with the barrel beneath her breast. She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again, For the road lay bare in the moonlight, Blank and bare in the moonlight, And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain. Tlot tlot; tlot tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hooves, ringing clear; Tlot tlot, tlot tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear? Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill, The highwayman came riding Riding, riding! The redcoats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still. Tlot tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot tlot, in the echoing night! Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light! Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew one last deep breath, Then her finger moved in the moonlight-- Her musket shattered the moonlight-- Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him--with her death. He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched in her own red blood! Not till the dawn did he hear it, and his face grew grey to hear How Bess, the landlord's daughter, The landlord's black-eyed daughter, Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there. Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky, With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high! Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon,; wine-red was his velvet coat When they shot him down on the highway, Down like a dog in the highway, And he lay in his blood in the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat. And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees, When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, When the road a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, The highwayman comes riding-- Riding--riding-- The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door. Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard, He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred, He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, Bess, the landlord's daughter, Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.Back to The Ballads!
*Note Most of These Poems' Authors are Unknown*
Had a mule, his name was Jack, I rode his tail to save his back; His tail got loose and I fell back-- Whoa, Jack!Back to the Nursery Rhymes!
One sneeze is lucky, Two sneezes queer, Three sneezes -- get your hanky (Oh, dear, dear), Four sneezes -- off she goes into her bed and under the clo'es.Back to the Nursery Rhymes!
What are little boys made of? What are little boys made of? Frogs and snails and puppy-dogs' tails, And that are little boys made of. What are little girls made of? What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice and all things nice, And that are little girlds made of. What are young men made of? What are young men made of? Sighs and leers, and crocodile tears, And that are young men made of. What are young women made of? What are young women made of? Ribbons and laces, and sweet pretty faces, And that are young women made of.Back to the Nursery Rhymes!
Jack and Jill went up the hill, To fetch a pail of water; Jack fell down and broke his crown, And Jill came tumbling after. Then up Jack got and home did trot, As fast as he could caper. He went to bed to mend his head With vinegar and brown paper.Back to the Nursery Rhymes!
Mary, Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow? With cockleshells, and silver bells, And pretty maids all in a row.
Georgy Porgy, pudding and pie, Kissed the girls and made them cry; When the boys came out to play, Georgy Porgy ran away.Back to the Nursery Rhymes!
There was a crooked man, And he went a crooked mile, He found a crooked sixpence, gainst a crooked stile; He bought a crooked cat Which caught a crooked mouse, And they all lived together In a little crooked house.Back to the Nursery Rhymes!
Jack Sprat could eat no fat. His wife could eat no lean; And so betwixt the two of them, They licked the platter clean.Back to the Nursery Rhymes!