Children's Poetry

[Obscure]

A Song from the Suds
a poem by Louisa May Alcott

A Song from the Suds

Queen of my tub, I merrily sing,


While the white foam raises high,


And sturdily wash, and rinse, and wring,


And fasten the clothes to dry;


Then out in the free fresh air they swing,


Under the sunny sky.

I wish we could wash from our hearts and our souls


The stains of the week away,


And let water and air by their magic make


Ourselves as pure as they;


Then on the earth there would be indeed


A glorious washing day!

Along the path of a useful life


Will heart's-ease ever bloom;


The busy mind has no time to think


Of sorrow, or care, or gloom;


And anxious thoughts may be swept away


As we busily wield a broom.

I am glad a task to me is given


To labor at day by day;


For it brings me health, and strength, and hope,


And I cheerfully learn to say-


"Head, you may think; heart, you may feel;


But hand, you shall work always!"

Louisa May Alcott

[Obscure]

A Toast to our Native Land
by Robert Bridges

Huge and alert, irascible yet strong,
We make our fitful way 'mid right and wrong.
One time we pour out millions to be free,
Then rashly sweep an empire from the sea!
One time we strike the shackles from the slaves,
And then, quiescent, we are ruled by knaves.
Often we rudely break restraining bars,
And confidently reach out toward the stars.

Yet under all there flows a hidden stream
Sprung from the Rock of Freedom, the great dream
Of Washington and Franklin, men of old
Who knew that freedom is not bought with gold.
This is the Land we love, our heritage,
Strange mixture of the gross and fine, yet sage
And full of promise destined to be great.
Drink to Our Native Land! God Bless the State!
A Toast to our Native Land
by Robert Bridges

[Obscure]

The American Flag

by Joseph Rodman Drake


When Freedom, from her mountain height,
Unfurled her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,
And set the stars of glory there!
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure celestial white
With streakings of the morning light,
Then, from his mansion in the sun,
She called her eagle-bearer down,
And gave into his mighty hand
The symbol of her chosen land!

Majestic monarch of the cloud!
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
To hear the tempest-tramping loud,
And see the lightning-lances driven,
When stride the warriors of the storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven!
Child of the sun! to thee 'tis given
To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle stroke,
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war,
The harbingers of victory!

Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope and triumph high!
When speaks the signal-trumpet tone,
And the long line comes gleaming on,
(Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,
Has dimmed the glist'ning bayonet),
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn
To where thy meteor-glories burn,
And, as his springing steps advance,
Catch war and vengeance from the glance!
And when the cannon-mouthings loud
Heave in wild wreaths the battle-shroud,
And gory sabres rise and fall,
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall!
There shall thy victor-glances glow,
And cowering foes shall shrink beneath,
Each gallant arm that strikes below,
The lovely messenger of death.

Flag of the seas! on ocean's wave
Thy star shall glitter o'er the brave;
When Death, careering on the gale,
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,
And frighted waves rush wildly back
Before the broadside's reeling rack,
The dying wanderer of the sea
Shall look, at once, to heaven and thee,
And smile, to see thy splendors fly,
In triumph, o'er his closing eye.

Flag of the free heart's hope and home,
By angel hands to valor given!
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,
And all thy hues were born in heaven!

[And fixed as yonder orb divine,
That saw thy bannered blaze unfurled,
Shall thy proud stars resplendent shine,
The guard and glory of the world.]

Forever float that standard sheet!
Where breathes the foe but falls before us?
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,
And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us!
The American Flag
by Joseph Rodman Drake

[Obscure]

Battle Hymn of the Republic - a poem by Julia Ward Howe

Battle Hymn of the Republic - a poem by Julia Ward Howe

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fatal lightning of his terrible swift sword:
His Truth is marching on.

have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps;
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps;
an read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps.
His Day is marching on.

I have read a fiery gospel, writ in burnished rows of steel:
As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal;
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel,
Since God is marching on.'

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat;
He is sifting out the hearts of men before his judgment-seat:
Oh! be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me:
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.

[Obscure]

Beautiful Soup - a poem by Lewis Carroll

Beautiful Soup

BEAUTIFUL Soup, so rich and green,


Waiting in a hot tureen!


Who for such dainties would not stoop?


Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!


Soup of the evening, beautiful Soup!

Beau--ootiful Soo-oop!


Beau--ootiful Soo-oop!


Soo--oop of the e--e--evening,


Beautiful, beautiful Soup!

Beautiful Soup! Who cares for fish,


Game, or any other dish?


Who would not give all else for two


Pennyworth only of Beautiful Soup?


Pennyworth only of beautiful Soup?

Beau--ootiful Soo-oop!


Beau--ootiful Soo-oop!


Soo--oop of the e--e--evening,


Beautiful, beauti--FUL SOUP!