These are some more poems I like to recite, or at least chant whatever little snatches I can remember, as we go about our business. I already blogged about some weather poems to say. They're all in the first volume of the old Childcraft set, of which my sister found me a copy.
The ducklings still aren't particularly interested in sitting still and listening to a book of poetry--the pages don't turn fast enough. (Except their board book Mother Goose, which they do love.) So just saying it while we do things suits them better.
When we climb the stairs (which is our favorite thing to do on rainy days):
Halfway Down
A.A. Milne
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 stiars isn't up, and it isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery, it isn't in the town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts run around my head:
"It isn't really anywhere! It's somewhere else instead!"
At the park (which is our favorite place to be on sunny days):
The Swing
Robert Louis Stevenson
How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--
Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown--
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!
At the obvious time:
After a Bath
by Aileen Fisher
After a bath I try, try, try
to wipe myself tell I'm dry, dry, dry.
Hands to wipe and fingers and toes
and two wet legs and a shiny nose.
Just think how much less time I'd take
if I were a dog and could shake, shake shake.
On returning from grocery shopping, of course, we must do "To Market, To Market."
And I can't usually remember more than a snatch of these, but I love them anyway:
During innumerable games of peek-a-boo:
I'm hiding, I'm hiding,
And no one knows where;
For all they can see is my
Toes and my hair.
(From "Hiding," by Dorothy Aldis)
When we set out on the right adventuresome sort of day:
Where am I going? I don't quite know.
Down to the stream where the king-cups grow--
Up on the hill where the pine trees blow--
Anywhere, anywhere, I don't know.
(From "Spring Morning," by A. A. Milne, which is actually in the second Childcraft volume.) | 