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A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book One by  Ada M. Skinner and Frances Gillespy Wickes

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A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book One
by Ada Skinner
First volume of A Child's Own Book of Verse, a three-volume set planned for use during the four primary years. This unusually fine collection of poetry was selected with the child's interests in mind. Includes sound rhymes and jingles to appeal to the ear, descriptive poems to create images in the mind's eye, lullabies and lyrics to warm the heart, and story-telling poems to stir the imagination. Attractively illustrated by Maud and Miska Petersham.  Ages 5-8
100 pages $8.95   





Old Mother Duck has hatched a brood

Of ducklings, small and callow;

Their little wings are short, their down

Is mottled gray and yellow.

There is a quiet little stream,

That runs into the moat,

Where tall green sedges spread their leaves,

And water lilies float.

Close by the margin of the brook

The old duck made her nest,

Of straw, and leaves, and withered grass,

And down from her own breast.

And then she sat for four long weeks

In rainy days and fine,

Until the ducklings all came out—

Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine.

One peeped out from beneath her wing,

One scrambled on her back;

"That's very rude," said old Dame Duck,

"Get off! quack, quack, quack, quack!"


" 'Tis close," said Dame Duck, shoving out

The eggshells with her bill;

"Besides, it never suits young ducks

To keep them sitting still."

So, rising from her nest, she said,

"Now, children, look at me;

A well-bred duck should waddle so,

From side to side—d' ye see?"

"Yes," said the little ones, and then

She went on to explain:

"A well-bred duck turns in its toes

As I do—try again."

"Yes," said the ducklings, waddling on:

"That's better," said their mother;

"But well-bred ducks walk in a row,

Straight—one behind another."

"Yes," said the little ducks again,

All waddling in a row:

"Now to the pond," said old Dame Duck—

Splash, splash, and in they go.

"Let me swim first," said old Dame Duck,

"To this side, now to that;

There, snap at those great brown-winged flies,

They make young ducklings fat.


"Now when you reach the poultry yard,

The hen-wife, Molly Head,

Will feed you, with the other fowls,

On bran and mashed-up bread.

"The hens will peck and fight, but mind,

I hope that all of you

Will gobble up the food as fast

As well-bred ducks should do.

"You'd better get into the dish,

Unless it is too small;

In that case, I should use my foot,

And overturn it all."

The ducklings did as they were bid,

And found the plan so good,

That, from that day, the other fowls

Got hardly any food.

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