_In Autumn
By Fannie Montgomery
They’re coming down in showers,
The leaves all gold and red;
They’re covering the little flowers,
And tucking them in bed.
They’ve spread a fairy carpet
All up and down the street;
And when we skip along to school,
They rustle ‘neath our feet.
By Fannie Montgomery
They’re coming down in showers,
The leaves all gold and red;
They’re covering the little flowers,
And tucking them in bed.
They’ve spread a fairy carpet
All up and down the street;
And when we skip along to school,
They rustle ‘neath our feet.
___Ations
By Shel Silverstein
If we meet and I say, "Hi,"
That's a salutation.
If you ask me how I feel,
That's consideration.
If we stop and talk awhile,
That's a conversation.
If we understand each other,
That's communication.
If we argue, scream and fight,
That's an altercation.
If later we apologize,
That's reconciliation.
If we help each other home,
That's cooperation.
And all these ations added up
Make civilization. (And if I say this is a wonderful poem,
Is that exaggeration?)
By Shel Silverstein
If we meet and I say, "Hi,"
That's a salutation.
If you ask me how I feel,
That's consideration.
If we stop and talk awhile,
That's a conversation.
If we understand each other,
That's communication.
If we argue, scream and fight,
That's an altercation.
If later we apologize,
That's reconciliation.
If we help each other home,
That's cooperation.
And all these ations added up
Make civilization. (And if I say this is a wonderful poem,
Is that exaggeration?)
_
_
The
Leaves
The leaves had a wonderful frolic.
They danced to the wind’s loud song.
They whirled, and they floated, and scampered.
They circled and flew along.
The moon saw the little leaves dancing.
Each looked like a small brown bird.
The man in the moon smiled and listened,
And this is the song he heard.
The North Wind is calling, is calling,
And we must whirl round and round,
And then, when our dancing is ended,
We’ll make a warm quilt for the ground.
The leaves had a wonderful frolic.
They danced to the wind’s loud song.
They whirled, and they floated, and scampered.
They circled and flew along.
The moon saw the little leaves dancing.
Each looked like a small brown bird.
The man in the moon smiled and listened,
And this is the song he heard.
The North Wind is calling, is calling,
And we must whirl round and round,
And then, when our dancing is ended,
We’ll make a warm quilt for the ground.
_
_
Keep a Poem in Your Pocket
By: Beatrice Schenk de Regniers
(duh ren' yeah)
Keep a poem in your pocket
and a picture in your head
and you'll never feel lonely at night when you're in bed.
The little poem will sing to you
the little picture bring to you
a dozen dreams to dance to you
at night when you're in bed.
So--
Keep a picture in your pocket
and a poem in your head
and you'll never be lonely at night when you're in bed.
Keep a Poem in Your Pocket
By: Beatrice Schenk de Regniers
(duh ren' yeah)
Keep a poem in your pocket
and a picture in your head
and you'll never feel lonely at night when you're in bed.
The little poem will sing to you
the little picture bring to you
a dozen dreams to dance to you
at night when you're in bed.
So--
Keep a picture in your pocket
and a poem in your head
and you'll never be lonely at night when you're in bed.
____LADYBUG
~ By Joan Walsh Anglund
A small speckled visitor
wearing crimson cape,
brighter than a cherry,
smaller than a grape.
A polka-dotted someone
walking on my wall,
a black-hooded lady
in a scarlet shawl.
_There was an old owl who lived in an oak,
The more he heard, the less he spoke,
The less he spoke, the more he heard;
Why aren't we like that wise old bird?
_
Something Told
the Wild Geese
By Rachel Field
Something told the wild geese
It was time to go;
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered, - 'snow'.
Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned, - 'frost'.
All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.
Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly -
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.
By Rachel Field
Something told the wild geese
It was time to go;
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered, - 'snow'.
Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned, - 'frost'.
All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.
Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly -
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.
_
When a Rottweiler Feels Rotten
When a Rottweiler feels rotten
Does he stuff his ears with cotton?
Does he sulk upon his bed
A pile of pillows on his head?
Does he stomp around and shout,
“You guys had better let me out!”?
Does he tear up someone’s sweater?
Or just wait till things get better?
When a Rottweiler feels rotten
Does he stuff his ears with cotton?
Does he sulk upon his bed
A pile of pillows on his head?
Does he stomp around and shout,
“You guys had better let me out!”?
Does he tear up someone’s sweater?
Or just wait till things get better?