Файл:The Holiday, by Mary R Bassett.jpg

Identifier: poemsmychildrenl00john (find matches)
Title: Poems my children love best of all
Year: 1919 (1910s)
Authors: Johnson, Clifton, 1865-1940, ed Bassett, Mary R Hammell, Will
Subjects: Children's poetry
Publisher: New York : Lloyd Adams Noble
Contributing Library: New York Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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Text Appearing Before Image:
eeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry,His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.A wink of his eye and a twist of his headSoon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,And filled all the stockings—then turned with a jerkAnd laying his finger aside of his nose,And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!* Clement C. Moore. THE HOLIDAY Come out, come out, for merry play:This is the pleasant month of June,And we will go this afternoon Over the hills and far away. Hurrah! well have a holiday; And through the wood and up the gladeWell go in sunshine and in shade Over the hills and far away.
Text Appearing After Image:
The Holiday THE NEW YORK JBLIC LIBRARY) ASTOR, LENOXllTILDLN E C The Girl Who Cried 201 The wild rose blooms upon the spray; In all the sky is not a cloud; And merry birds are singing loudOver the hills and far away. Not one of us behind must stay;But little ones and all shall go,Where summer breezes gently blow, Over the hills and far away. Mrs. Hawtry. THE GIRL WHO CRIED Winifred Waters sat and sighed Under a weeping willow;When she went to bed she cried, Wetting all the pillow. Kept on crying night and day, Till her friends lost patience; What shall we do to stop her, pray? So said her relations. Send her to the sandy plains, In the zone called torrid:Send her where it never rains, Where the heat is horrid! Mind that she has only flour For her daily feeding;Let her have a page an hour Of the dryest reading. Little Folks Book of Verse When the poor girl has endured Six months of this drying,Winifred will come back cured, Let us hope, of crying. William B. Rands. MERRY RAIN Sprinkle,

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