: The Book of Joyous Children by Riley James Whitcomb Vawter Will Illustrator - Children's poetry American

@FreeBooksTue 06 Jun, 2023

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PROEM THE BOOK OF JOYOUS CHILDREN AN IMPROMPTU FAIRY-TALE DREAM-MARCH ELMER BROWN NO BOY KNOWS WHEN WE FIRST PLAYED "SHOW" A DIVERTED TRAGEDY THE RAMBO-TREE FIND THE FAVORITE THE BOY PATRIOT EXTREMES INTELLECTUAL LIMITATIONS A MASQUE OF THE SEASONS THOMAS THE PRETENDER LITTLE DICK AND THE CLOCK FOOL-YOUNGENSZ THE KATYDIDS BILLY AND HIS DRUM THE NOBLE OLD ELM THE PENALTY OF GENIUS EVENSONG THE TWINS THE LITTLE LADY "COMPANY MANNERS" IN FERVENT PRAISE OF PICNICS THE GOOD, OLD-FASHIONED PEOPLE THE BEST TIMES "HIK-TEE-DIK!" A CHRISTMAS MEMORY "OLD BOB WHITE"

A SESSION WITH UNCLE SIDNEY:

A DUBIOUS "OLD KRISS" A SONG OF SINGING THE JAYBIRD A BEAR FAMILY

OLD MAN WHISKERY-WHEE-KUM-WHEEZE LITTLE-GIRL-TWO-LITTLE-GIRLS A GUSTATORY ACHIEVEMENT CLIMATIC SORCERY A PARENT REPRIMANDED THE TREASURE OF THE WISE MAN

NOT IN CLASSIC LOOK, BUT RICH IN THE CHILD-SAGAS OF THE KITCHEN KNEEL, ALL GLOWING, TO THE COOL SPRING NO BOY KNOWS WHEN HE GOES TO SLEEP JAMESY ON THE SLACK-ROPE ACROSS THE ORCHARD WHILE ALL THE ARMY, FOLLOWING, IN CHORUS CHEERS AND SINGS WHERE IT GOES WHEN THE FIRE GOES OUT? THE FAIRY QUEEN OF THE SEASONS PORE PA! PORE PA! SQUINT' OUR EYES AN' LAUGH' AGAIN HE'S A-MARCHIN' ROUND THE ROOM THE OLD TREE SAYS HE'S ALL OUR TREE THEREFORE READ NO LONGER SHE'S BUT A RACING SCHOOL-GIRL THEY WAS GOD'S PEOPLE THEM WUZ THE BEST TIMES EVER WUZ HE'S GO' HITCH UP, CHRIS'MUS-DAY, AN' COME TAKE ME BACK AGAIN WHEN WE DROVE TO HARMONY A BIG, HOLLOW, OLD OAK-TREE, WHICH HAD BEEN BLOWN DOWN BY A STORM THE YOUNG FOXES IN IT, ON THE HEARTH BESIDE HER AN' ALL BE POETS AN' ALL RECITE ALONG THE BRINK OF WILD BROOK-WAYS I LIKE TO WATCH HIM WHILE KATE PICKS BY, YET LOOKS NOT THERE LEND ME THE BREATH OF A FRESHENING GALE BOW TO ME IN THE WINDER THERE OUR "OLD-KRISS"-MILKMAN THE CHILDISH DREAMS IN HIS WISE OLD HEAD

THE BOOK OF JOYOUS CHILDREN

Bound and bordered in leaf-green, Edged with trellised buds and flowers And glad Summer-gold, with clean White and purple morning-glories Such as suit the songs and stories Of this book of ours, Unrevised in text or scene,-- The Book of Joyous Children.

Wild and breathless in their glee-- Lawless rangers of all ways Winding through lush greenery Of Elysian vales--the viny, Bowery groves of shady, shiny Haunts of childish days. Spread and read again with me The Book of Joyous Children.

What a whir of wings, and what Sudden drench of dews upon The young brows, wreathed, all unsought, With the apple-blossom garlands Of the poets of those far lands Whence all dreams are drawn Set herein and soiling not The Book of Joyous Children.

In their blithe companionship Taste again, these pages through, The hot honey on your lip Of the sun-smit wild strawberry, Or the chill tart of the cherry; Kneel, all glowing, to The cool spring, and with it sip The Book of Joyous Children.

As their laughter needs no rule, So accept their language, pray.-- Touch it not with any tool: Surely we may understand it,-- As the heart has parsed or scanned it Is a worthy way, Though found not in any School The Book of Joyous Children.

AN IMPROMPTU FAIRY-TALE

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