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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   




[90] "A Farm-Yard Song" was popular years ago with Burbank, the great reader. How the boys and girls loved it! The author, J. T. Trowbridge (1827-1916), "is a boy-hearted man," says John Burroughs. The poem is just as popular as it ever was.

Over the hill the farm-boy goes,

His shadow lengthens along the land,

A giant staff in a giant hand;

In the poplar-tree, above the spring,

The katydid begins to sing;

The early dews are falling;—

Into the stone-heap darts the mink;

The swallows skim the river's brink;

And home to the woodland fly the crows,

When over the hill the farm-boy goes,

Cheerily calling,—

"Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'! co'!"

Farther, farther over the hill,

Faintly calling, calling still,—

"Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'!"

Into the yard the farmer goes,

With grateful heart, at the close of day;

Harness and chain are hung away;

In the wagon-shed stand yoke and plow;

The straw's in the stack, the hay in the mow;

The cooling dews are falling;—

The friendly sheep his welcome bleat,

The pigs come grunting to his feet,

The whinnying mare her master knows,

When into the yard the farmer goes,

His cattle calling,—

"Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'! co'!"


While still the cow-boy, far away,

Goes seeking those that have gone astray,—

"Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'!"

Now to her task the milkmaid goes.

The cattle come crowding through the gate,

Lowing, pushing, little and great;

About the trough, by the farm-yard pump,

The frolicsome yearlings frisk and jump,

While the pleasant dews are falling;—

The new-milch heifer is quick and shy,

But the old cow waits with tranquil eye;

And the white stream into the bright pail flows,

When to her task the milkmaid goes,

Soothingly calling,—

"So, boss! so, boss! so! so! so!"

The cheerful milkmaid takes her stool,

And sits and milks in the twilight cool,

Saying, "So! so, boss! so! so!"

To supper at last the farmer goes.

The apples are pared, the paper read,

The stories are told, then all to bed.

Without, the crickets' ceaseless song

Makes shrill the silence all night long;

The heavy dews are falling.

The housewife's hand has turned the lock;

Drowsily ticks the kitchen clock;

The household sinks to deep repose;

But still in sleep the farm-boy goes.

Singing, calling,—

"Co', boss! co', boss! co'! co'! co'!"


And oft the milkmaid, in her dreams,

Drums in the pail with the flashing streams,

Murmuring, "So, boss! so!"


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