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A Child's Own Book of Verse II by  Ada M. Skinner

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A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Two
by Ada Skinner
Second 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 6-9
137 pages $8.95   





Where do you think the Fairies go

To buy their blankets ere the snow?

When Autumn comes, with frosty days,

The sorry, shivering little Fays

Begin to think it's time to creep

Down to their caves for Winter sleep.

But first they come from far and near

To buy, where shops are not too dear.

(The wind and frost bring prices down

So Fall 's their time to come to town!)

Where on the hillside rough and steep

Browse all day long the cows and sheep,

The mullein's yellow candles burn

Over the heads of dry sweet fern

All summer long the mullein weaves

His soft and thick and woolly leaves.

Warmer blankets were never seen

Than these broad leaves of fuzzy green.

(The cost of each is but a shekel

Made from the gold of honeysuckle!)


To buy their sheets and fine white lace

With which to trim a pillow case,

They only have to go next door,

Where stands a sleek brown spider's store,

And there they find the misty threads

Ready to cut into sheet and spreads;

Then, for a pillow, pluck with care

Some soft-winged seeds as light as air;

Just what they want the thistle brings,

But thistles are such surly things—

And so, though it is somewhat high,

The clematis the Fairies buy.

The only bedsteads that they need

Are silky pods of ripe milk-weed,

With hangings of the dearest things—

Autumn leaves, or butterflies' wings

And dandelions' fuzzy heads

They use to stuff their feather beds;

And yellow snapdragons supply

The nightcaps that the Fairies buy,

To which some blades of grass they pin,

And tie them 'neath each little chin.


Then, shopping done, the Fairies cry,

"Our Summer's gone! Oh, sweet, good-by!"

And sadly to their caves they go,

To hide away from Winter's snow—

And then, though winds and storms may beat,

The Fairies' sleep is warm and sweet!


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