Eletelephony The Daddy Longlegs

Once there was an elephant, O Daddy

Who tried to use the telephant-- Daddy O
No! no! I mean an elephone How’d you get
Who tried to use the telephone-- Those legs to grow
(Dear me! I am not certain quite So very long
That even now I've got it right.) And lean in size?
From spiderobic
Howe'er it was, he got his trunk Exercise?
Entangled in the telephunk; Did you drink milk?
The more he tried to get it free, Or chew on cheese?
The louder buzzed the telephee-- And by the way,
I fear I'd better drop the song Where are your knees?
Of elephop and telephong!) O Daddy
Daddy O
Laura E. Richards How’d you get
Those legs to grow?

Douglas Florian
There Was a Crooked Man

There was a crooked man, Why is it?

And he went a crooked mile,
He found a crooked sixpence, Why is it some mornings
Against a crooked stile; Your clothes just don’t fit?
He bought a crooked cat Your pants are too short
Which caught a crooked mouse, To bend over or sit,
And they all lived together Your sleeves are too long
In a little crooked house. And your hat is too tight –
Why is it some mornings
Traditional Your clothes don’t feel right?

Shel Silverstein

At the Seaside
Hurt no Living Thing
When I was down beside the sea
A wooden spade they gave to me Hurt no living thing;
To dig the sandy shore. Ladybird, nor butterfly,
My holes were empty like a cup, Nor moth with dusty wing,
In every hole the sea came up, Nor cricket chirping cheerily,
Till it could hold no more. Nor grasshopper so light of leap,
Nor dancing gnat, nor beetle fat,
Robert Louis Stevenson Nor harmless worms that creep.

Christina Rossetti

Montessori Training Center of New England

 The Squirrel
Taste of Purple
Whisky, frisky, hippity hop,
Up he goes to the treetop, Grapes hang purple
Whirly, twirly, round and round, In their bunches,
Down he scampers to the ground. Ready for
Furly, curly, what a tail, September lunches.
Tall as a feather, broad as a snail, Gather them, no
Where’s his supper ? In the shell. Minutes wasting.
Snap! Crack! Out it fell! Purple is
Delicious tasting.
Traditional
Leland B. Jacobs

My Little Sister Mice

My little sister I think mice

Likes to eat. Are rather nice.
But when she does Their tails are long,
She’s not too neat. their faces small,
The trouble is they haven’t any
She doesn’t know chins at all.
Exactly where Their ears are pink,
The food should go! their teeth are white,
they run about
William Wise the house at night.
They nibble things
They shouldn’t touch
The Snowflake and no one seems
to like them much.
Before I melt, But I think mice
Come, look at me! Are nice.
This lovely icy filigree!
Of a great forest Rose Fyleman
In one night
I make a wilderness
Of white:
By skyey cold When I Was Lost
Of crystals made,
All softly, on Underneath my belt
Your finger laid, My stomach was a stone.
I pause, that you Sinking was the way I felt.
My beauty see: And hollow.
Breathe, and I vanish And alone.
Instantly.
Walter de la Mare Dorothy Aldis

Montessori Training Center of New England

 Rainy Nights
The Months
I like the town on rainy nights
January brings the snow, When everything is wet –
Makes our feet and fingers glow. When all the town has magic lights
And streets of shining jet!
February brings the rain,
Thaws the frozen lake again. When all the rain about the town
Is like a looking-glass,
March brings breezes loud and And all the lights are upside-down
shrill, Below me as I pass.
Stirs the dancing daffodil.
In all the pools are velvet skies,
April brings the primrose sweet, And down the dazzling street
Scatters daisies at our feet. A fairy city gleams and lies
In beauty at my feet.
May brings flocks of pretty lambs,
Skipping by their fleecy dams. Irene Thompson

June brings tulips, lilies, roses,

Fills the children’s hands with
posies. Long Gone

Hot July brings cooling showers, Don’t waste your time in looking for
Apricots and gillyflowers. The long-extinct tyrannosaur,
Because this ancient dinosaur
August brings the sheaves of corn, Just can’t be found here anymore.
Then the harvest home is borne.
This also goes for stegosaurus,
Warm September brings the fruit, Allosaurus, brontosaurus
Sportsmen then begin to shoot. And any other saur or saurus.
They all lived here long before us.
Fresh October brings the pheasant,
Then to gather nuts is pleasant. Jack Prelutsky

Dull November brings the blast,

Then the leaves are whirling fast.

Chill December brings the sleet, The Lizard

Blazing fire, and Christmas treat.
The Lizard is a timid thing
Sara Coleridge That cannot dance or fly or sing:
He hunts for bugs beneath the floor
And longs to be a dinosaur.

John Gardner

Montessori Training Center of New England

 The Toaster Trees

A silver-scaled Dragon The Oak is called the king of trees,

with jaws flaming red The Aspen quivers in the breeze,
sits at my elbow and The Poplar grows up straight and tall,
toasts my bread. The Peach tree spreads along the wall,
I hand him fat slices, The Sycamore gives pleasant shade,
and then, one by one, The Willow droops in watery glade,
he hands them back The Fir tree useful timber gives,
when he sees they are done. The Beech amid the forest lives.

William Jay Smith Sara Coleridge

My Nose This is Halloween

It doesn’t breathe; Goblins on the doorstep,

It doesn’t smell; Phantoms in the air,
It doesn’t feel Owls on witches’ gateposts
So very well. Giving stare for stare,
Cats on flying broomsticks,
I am discouraged Bats against the moon,
With my nose: Stirrings round of fate-cakes
The only thing it With a solemn spoon,
Does is blows. Whirling apple pairings,
Figures draped in sheets
Dorothy Aldis Dodging, disappearing,
Up and down the streets,
Jack-o’-lanterns grinning,
The Universe Shadows on a screen,
Shrieks and starts and laughter –
There is the moon, there is the sun This is Halloween !
Round which we circle every year,
And there are all the stars we see Dorothy Brown Thompson
On starry nights when skies are
clear,
And all the countless stars that lie A Fly and a Flea in a Flue
Beyond the reach of human eye.
If every bud on every tree, A fly and a flea in a flue
All birds and fireflies and bees Were imprisoned, so what could they do?
And all the flowers that bloom and Said the fly, “Let us flee!”
die “Let us fly!”, said the flea,
Upon the earth were counted up, And they flew through a flaw in the flue.
The number of the stars would be
Greater, they say, than all of these. Anonymous

Mary Britton Miller

Montessori Training Center of New England

 The Wrong Start
Apple Secrets
I got up this morning
Who would think an apple and meant to be good,
Red, gold, or green and round but things didn’t happen
Would have a secret deep inside the way that they should.
When cut it can be found!
I thought this secret only shone I lost my toothbrush,
In deep and darkest night I slammed the door,
But when I cut my apple I dropped an egg
It shines with five points bright! on the kitchen floor.
And now you know the secret I spilled some sugar
Where shining stars are found and after that
In every crunchy apple I tried to hurry
Red, gold, or green and round. and tripped on the cat.

Betty Jones Things may get better.

I don’t know when.
I think I’ll go back
and start over again.

The Flounders Marchette Chute

Flat as a pancake
Flat as a crepe
Flounders are flat Rules
As a prairie in shape.
While waiting on Do not jump on ancient uncles.
Their smooth white side
Do not yell at average mice.
Below the sand
For food they hide, Do not wear a broom to breakfast.
Awaiting shrimp
Do not ask a snake’s advice.
And smaller fishes,
These flattish, mattish Do not bathe in chocolate pudding.
Living dishes.
Do not talk to bearded bears.
Douglas Florian Do not smoke cigars on sofas.
Do not dance on velvet chairs.
Do not take a whale to visit
The Hummingbird Russell’s mother’s cousin’s yacht.
And whatever else you do do
The Hummingbird, he has no song
It is better you
From flower to lower he hums along
Do not.
Humming his way among the trees
He finds no words for what he sees.
Darla Kuskin
Michael Flanders
Montessori Training Center of New England
 The Little Plant The Harvest

In the heart of a seed The silver rain, the shining sun,

Buried deep, so deep, The fields where scarlet poppies run
A dear little plant And all the ripples of the wheat
Lays fast asleep. Are in the bread that I do eat.

“Wake!” said the sunshine So when I sit for every meal

“And creep to the light.” and say a grace, I always feel
“Wake!” said the voice That I am eating rain and sun
of the raindrops bright. And fields where scarlet poppies run.

The little plant heard, Unknown

And it rose to see
What the wonderful
Outside world might be. The Sugar Lady

Kate Louis Brown There is an old lady

who lives down the hall,
wrinkled and gray and
toothless and small.
At seven already she’s up,
Together going from door to door
with a cup.
Because we do “Do you have any sugar?”,
All things together she asks,
All things improve, Although she’s got more
Even the weather. than you.
Do you have any sugar,” she asks,
Our daily meat Hoping you’ll talk for
And bread taste better, a minute or two.
Trees are greener,
Rain is wetter. Frank Asch

Paul Engle
Ladybug

A small speckled visitor

The Tickle Rhyme Wearing crimson cape,
Brighter than a cherry,
“Who’s that tickling my back?” Smaller than a grape.
said the wall.
“Me,” said a small A polka-dotted someone
Caterpillar. “I’m learning Walking on my wall,
To crawl.” A black-hooded lady
In a scarlet shawl.
Ian Serrailier
Joan Walsh Anglund

Montessori Training Center of New England

 Spring Rain I’d like to Be a Lighthouse

The storm came up so very quick, I’d like to be a lighthouse,

It couldn’t have been quicker. all scrubbed and painted white.
I should have brought my hat along, I’d like to be a lighthouse
I should have brought my slicker. and stay awake all night.
My hair is wet, my feet are wet, To keep my eye on everything
I couldn’t be much wetter. that sails my patch of sea;
I fell into a river once I’d like to be a lighthouse
But this is even better. with the ships all watching me.
Marchette Chute
Rachel Lyman Field

Singing Time Smells

I wake in the morning early Through all the frozen winter,

and always, the very first thing, my nose has grown most lonely
I poke out my head and I sit up in bed for lovely, lovely colored smells
and I sing and I sing and I sing. that come in springtime only.

Rose Fyleman The purple smell of lilacs,

The yellow smell that blows
across the air of meadows
where bright forsythia grows.
Keep a Poem in Your Pocket
The tall pink smell of peach trees,
Keep a poem in your pocket The low white smell of clover,
and a picture in your head and everywhere the great green smell
and you’ll never feel lonely of grass the whole world over.
at night when you’re in bed.
Kathryn Worth.
The little poem will sing to you
the little picture bring to you
a dozen dreams to dance to you
at night when you’re in bed. Thankful

So- We’re thankful for our happy hearts,

Keep a picture in your pocket for rain and sunny weather,
and a poem in your head we’re thankful for the food we eat
and you’ll never feel lonely and that we are together.
at night when you’re in bed.
Unknown
Beatrice Schenk De Regniers

Montessori Training Center of New England