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Poems Every Child Should Know by  Mary E. Burt

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Poems Every Child Should Know
by Mary E. Burt
An outstanding collection of poems that appeal to both boys and girls, compiled by a teacher who believed in the formative power of learning poetry by heart. 'Children,' she maintains, 'should build for their future — and get, while they are children, what only the fresh imagination of the child can assimilate. They should store up an untold wealth of heroic sentiment; they should acquire the habit of carrying a literary quality in their conversation; they should carry a heart full of the fresh and delightful associations and memories connected with poetry hours to brighten mature years. They should develop their memories while they have memories to develop.' The poems are grouped into six sections (The Budding Moment, The Little Child, The Day's at the Morn, Lad and Lassie, On and On, 'Grow Old Along with Me') to make it easier to locate poems that match a child's maturity.  Ages 8-12
391 pages $14.95   




[192] I wonder if the English people appreciate "The Homes of England." It is a stately poem worthy of a Goethe or a Shakespeare. England is distinctively a country of homes, pretty, little, humble homes as well as stately palaces and castles, homes well made of stone or brick for the most part, and clad with ivy and roses. Who would not be proud to have had such a home as Ann Hathaway's humble cottage or one of the little huts in the Lake District? The homes of America are often more palatial, especially in small cities, but the use of wood in America makes them less substantial than the slate-and-brick houses of England. (1749-1835.)

The stately homes of England!

How beautiful they stand,

Amidst their tall ancestral trees,

O'er all the pleasant land!

The deer across their greensward bound

Through shade and sunny gleam,

And the swan glides past them with the sound

Of some rejoicing stream.

The merry homes of England!

Around their hearths by night

What gladsome looks of household love

Meet in the ruddy light!

There woman's voice flows forth in song,

Or childish tale is told,

Or lips move tunefully along

Some glorious page of old.

The blessèd homes of England!

How softly on their bowers

Is laid the holy quietness

That breathes from Sabbath hours!

Solemn, yet sweet, the church-bell's chime

Floats through their woods at morn;


All other sounds, in that still time,

Of breeze and leaf are born.

The cottage homes of England!

By thousands on her plains,

They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks,

And round the hamlets' fanes.

Through glowing orchards forth they peep,

Each from its nook of leaves;

And fearless there the lowly sleep,

As the bird beneath their eaves.

The free, fair homes of England!

Long, long, in hut and hall

May hearts of native proof be reared

To guard each hallowed wall!

And green forever be the groves,

And bright the flowery sod,

Where first the child's glad spirit loves

Its country and its God!


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