by Eugene Field - MPCSD

WYNKEN, BLYNKEN, AND NOD

by Eugene Field

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe, --

Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.

“Where are you going, and what do you wish?”
The old moon asked the three.

“We have come to fish for the herring fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we!”
Said Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe;

And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew.

The little stars were the herring fish
That lived in that beautiful sea---

“Now cast your nets wherever you wish,---
Never afeard are we!”
So cried the stars to the fishermen three,
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam,---

Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home:

“Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed
As if it could not be;

And some folk thought ‘twas a dream they’d dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea;
But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,

And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one’s trundle-bed;

So shut your eyes while Mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,

And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:---
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

ONLY MY OPINION

Monica Shannon
Is a caterpillar ticklish?

Well, itʼs always my belief
That he giggles, as he wiggles

Across a hairy leaf.

THANKSGIVING DAY

Lydia Maria Child

Over the river and through the wood,
To grandfatherʼs house we go;
The horse knows the way
To carry the sleigh
Through the white and drifted snow.

Over the river and through the wood---
Oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes
And bites the nose,
As over the ground we go.

Over the river and through the wood,
To have a first-rate play.
Hear the bells ring,
“Ting-a-ling-ding!”
Hurrah for Thanksgiving Day!

Over the river and through the wood
Trot fast, my dapple-gray!
Spring over the ground,
Like a hunting-hound!
For this is Thanksgiving Day.

Over the river and through the wood,
And straight through the barnyard gate.
We seem to go
Extremely slow,---
It is so hard to wait

Over the river and through the wood---
Now grandmotherʼs cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun!
Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin-pie!

WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND?

Christina Rossetti

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:

But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:

But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.

MICE

Rose Fyleman

I think mice
Are rather nice.

Their tails are long,
Their faces small,
They haven’t any
Chins at all.
Their ears are pink,
Their teeth are white,
They run about
The house at night.
They nibble things
They shouldn’t touch
And no one seems
To like them much.
But I think mice
Are nice.

THE LITTLE TURTLE

Vachel Lindsay
There was a little turtle.
He lived in a box.
He swam in a puddle.
He climbed on the rocks.
He snapped at a mosquito.
He snapped at a flea.
He snapped at a minnow.
And he snapped at me.
He caught the mosquito.
He caught the flea.
He caught the minnow.
But he didnʼt catch me.

THE PIZZA

Ogden Nash
Look at itsy-bitsy Mitzi!
See he figure slim and ritzy!

She eatsa
Pizza!

Greedy Mitzi!
She no longer itsy-bitsy!

OODLES OF NOODLES

Lucia and James L. Hymes, Jr.
I love noodles. Give me oodles.

Make a mound up to the sun.
Noodles are my favorite foodles

I eat noodles by the ton.

ONE MISTY, MOISTY MORNING

Anonymous
One misty, moisty morning,

When cloudy was the weather,
I chanced to meet an old man,

Clothed all in leather.
He began to compliment

And I began to grin.
How do you do? And how do you do?

And how do you do again?

THE NIGHT WIND

Eugene Field

Have you ever heard the wind go “Yooooo”?
ʻTis a pitiful sound to hear!

It seems to chill you through and through
With a strange and speechless fear.

ʻTis the voice of the night that broods outside
When folk should be asleep,

And many and manyʼs the time Iʼve cried
To the darkness brooding far and wide

Over the land and the deep:
“Whom do you want, O lonely night,
That you wail the long hours through?”
And the night would say in its ghostly way:

“Yoooooooo!
Yoooooooo!
Yoooooooo!”

My mother told me long ago
(When I was a little tad)

That when the night went wailing so,
Somebody had been bad;

And then, when I was snug in bed,
Whither I had been sent,

With the blankets pulled up round my head,
Iʼd think of what my motherʼd said,

And wonder what boy she meant!
And “Whoʼs been bad to-day?” Iʼd ask

Of the wind that hoarsely blew,
And the voice would say in its meaningful way:

“Yoooooooo!
Yoooooooo!
Yoooooooo!”

That this was true I must allow---
Youʼll not believe it, though!

Yes, though Iʼm quite a model now,
I was not always so.

And if you doubt what things I say,
Suppose you make the test;

Suppose, when youʼve been bad some day
And up to bed are sent away

From mother and the rest---
Suppose you ask, “Who has been bad?”

And then youʼll hear whatʼs true;
For the wind will moan in its ruefulest tone:

“Yoooooooo!
Yoooooooo!
Yoooooooo!”