1. Swift the moments fly away,
First the hour, and then the day;
Next the week, the month, the year
Go away and disappear.
Time is always on the wing.
When I speak, or think, or sing;
When I work, or sleep, or play,
Time is flying fast away.
2. Such lovely things to hear and see
Belong to you, belong to me!
The sun, the trees, the grass, the sky,
The silver moon that’s sailing by.
Soft whispering winds, the birds that sing,
Bright autumn leaves, gay flowers, of spring,
The rain and dew and snow-flakes white,
The sparkling waves, the stars of night
3. Rain, rain, rain, April ram,
You are feeding seed and grain,
You are raising plants and drops;
With your gaily sparkling drops.
4. Let us make a merry ring,
Talk and laugh, and dance, and sing!
Quickly, quickly, come away,
For it is a pleasant day.
5. I live here,
You live near,
Tom lives so far
That he goes in a car.
We live near
You live here,
Tom and Ray
Live far away.
6. Molly, my sister, and fell out
And what do you think it was alt about?
She loved coffee and I loved tea,
And that was the reason we couldn't agree.
7. One, one, one, Three, three, three,
Little dogs run. Birds on a tree.
Two, two, two, Four, fiour, four,
Cats see you. Rats on the floor.
8. Now will you count to two?
Count to three just like me:
One, two, three!
Count to eight, don't be late!
Count to nine, that is fine!
And we then count to ten.
9. Fifths are hard to say...
A nimble tongue they need.
And sixths, and sevenths,
And eighths, and ninths
Are very hard indeed.
10. "Little Cat, little Cat,
As you sat on the mat,
Did you dream of a mouse,
Or a great rat?"
“Oh, no! Not so!
For 1 always dream
Of a dish full of fish
And a bowl full of bream."
11. A Dictionary's where you can look things up
To see if they are really there:
To see if what you breathe is Air,
If what you sit on is a Chair,
If what you comb is curly Hair
If what you drink from is a Cup.
A Dictionary's where you can look things up
To see if they are really there.
LITTLE ROBIN REDBREAST
Little Robin Redbreast sat upon a tree,
Up went Pussy-cat and down went he;
Down came Pussy-cat and away Robin ran;
Said little Robin Redbreast, "Catch me if you can!"
Little Robin Redbreast jumped upon a wall;
Pussy-cat jumped after him, and almost had a fall.
Little Robin chirped and sang, and what did Pussy say?
Pussy-cat said "Mew" and Robin jumped away.
FOR WANT OF A NAIL
For want of a nail, the shoe was lost,
For want of the shoe, the horse was lost,
For want of the horse, the rider was lost,
For want of the rider, the battle was lost,
For want of the battle, the kingdom was lost,
And all for the want of a horse-shoe nail.
Every thing looks very grey,
In rain, rain, rain,
I love to see it hit the ground
And then bounce up again.
Good, better, best,
Never rest,
Till good be better
And better best.
"Tick", the clock says, "Tick, tick, tick",
What you have to do, do quick,
Time is gliding fast away
Let us act and act today.
The moments fly — a minute's gone,
The minutes fly — an hour is run,
The day is fled — the night is here,
Thus flies a week, a month, a year.
One, two, three, four,
Mary at the cottage door,
Five, six, seven, eight,
Eating cherries off a plate.
Hickory, Dickory Dock
The mouse ran up the clock,
The clock struck one,
The mouse ran down,
Hickory, Dickory Dock.
Diddle, Diddle, Dumpling, my son John,
Went to bed with his trousers on;
One shoe off and one shoe on,
Diddle, Diddle, Dumpling, my son John.
Hey diddle, diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over, the moon;
The little dog laughed
To see such sport,
And dish ran away with the spoon.
Old Mother Hubboard
Went to the cupboard,
To get her poor doggy a bone;
But when she got there,
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor doggy got none.
Goosey, goosey gander,
Where do you wander?
Upstairs and downstairs,
And in my lady's chamber,
Where I met an old man,
Who wouldn't say his prayers —
I took him by the left leg,
And threw him down the stairs.
Little boy blue,
Come blow your horn;
The sheep's in the meadow,
The cow's in the corn.
Where is the boy
Who looks after the sheep?
He's under the haystack,
Fast asleep.
THE ARROW AND THE SONG
(by H. W. Longfellow)
I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where,
For so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where,
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of a song?
Long, long afterwards in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroken;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.
TWILIGHT
(by G. G. Byron)
It is the hour when from the boughs
The nightingale's high note is heard;
It is the hour when lover's vows
Seem sweet in every whispered word;
And gentle winds and waters near,
Make music to the lovely ear.
Each flower the dews have lightly wet,
And in the sky the stars are met
And on the wave is deeper blue,
And on the leaf a browner hue,
And in the heaven that clear obscure,
So softly dark, and darkly pure,
Which follows the decline of day,
As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
MY NATIVE LAND — GOOD NIGHT
"Adieu! adieu! my native shore
Fades over the waters blue;
The night winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild sea-mew.
Yon* sun that sets upon the sea
We follow in his flight;
Farewell awile to him and thee,
My native Land — good night!
(by Percy B. Shelley)
It was a winter such as when birds die
In the deep forests; and the fishes lie
Stiffened in the translucent ice, which makes
Even the mud and slime of the warm lakes
A wrinkled clod as hard as brick; and when
Among their children comfortable men
Gather about great fires, and yet feel cold;
Alas, then for the homeless beggar old.
INTO MY HEART AN AIR THAT KILLS
(by Alfred Edward Housman)
Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows;
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS
(by Robert Burns)
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer,
A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe —
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go!
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of valour, the country of worth!
Whenever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.
Farewell to the mountains high cover'd with snow,
Farewell to the straths and green valleys below;
Farewell to the forests and wild-hanging woods,
Farewell to the torrents and loud-pouring floods!
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands, a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go!
A RED, RED ROSE
(by Robert Burns)
O, my luve1 is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June;
O, my luve is like the melodie2,
That's sweetly play'd in tune
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,3
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.4
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear.
And the rocks melt wi' the sun;5
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life6 shall run.
And fare-thee-,7 weel my only luve!
And fare-thee-weel a while!
And I will come again, my luve,
Tho'8 it were ten thousand mile!
WRITTEN IN MARCH
(by William Wordsworth)
The cock is crowing,
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth9 glitter,
The green field-sleeps in the sun;
The oldest and youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!
Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fare ill
On the top of the bare hill;
The plough-boy is whooping — anon — anon;
There's joy in the mountains;
There's life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing,
Blue sky prevailing;
The rain is over and gone!
THOSE EVENING BELLS
(by Thomas Moore)
I
Those evening bells! those evening bells!
How many a tale their music tells,
Of youth, and home, and that sweet time,
When last I heard their soothing chime!
II
Those joyous hours are past away!
And many a heart, that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells!
III
And so 'twill be when I am gone;
That tuneful peal will still ring on,
While other bards shall walk these dells
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells!
SONNET 116
(by William Shakespeare)
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although its height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks,
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
SONNET CXXX
(by William Shakespeare)
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks,
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
SONNET XCI
(by William Shakespeare)
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
Some in their wealth, some in their bodies' force
Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill,
Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;
And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:
But these particulars are not my measure;
All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,
Of more delights than hawks or horses be;
And, having thee, of all men's pride I boast.
Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take
All this away and me most wretched make.
WHEN YOU ARE OLD
(by William Butler Yeats)
When you are old and full of sleep
And nodding by the fire, take down the book
And showly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once and of their shadows deep,
How many loved your moments of glad grace
And loved your beauty with love false of true
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you
And loved the sorrows beside the glowing bars
Murmur a little sadly how Love fled,
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And heed his face amid a crowd of stars.
IF
(by Rudyard Kipling)
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream — and not make dreams your master;
If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again,at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings — nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run —
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And — which is more — you'll be a Man, my son!
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