Happy Chinese New Year By Helen H. Moore "Gung Hay Fat Choy!" In China, every girl and boy Celebrates the New Year in a very special way - With fireworks and dragons, colored red and gold - They welcome in the new year and chase away the old!
April is national poetry month, so I took this opportunity to include a poem from one of my favorite poets as a child.
Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein There is a place where the sidewalk ends And before the street begins, And there the grass grows soft and white, And there the sun burns crimson bright, And there the moon-bird rests from his flight To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends. Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And watch where the chalk-white arrows go To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow, And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go, For the children, they mark, and the children, they know The place where the sidewalk ends.
The wind told the grasses, And the grasses told the trees. The trees told the bushes, And the bushes told the bees. The bees told the robin, And the robin sang out clear: Wake up! Wake up!
A Bad Case of the Sneezes by Bruce Lansky Last night I had the sneezes. I was really very ill. My mother called the doctor who prescribed a purple pill.
At eight o'clock I went to bed. My mom turned out the light. I used up one whole box of Kleenex sneezing through the night. I sneezed my brains out in my bed. I didn't get much rest. So that's the reason, teacher, that I flunked the spelling test
jacques Jacque Schawe April Poem due Sept.21 The Beautiful Spring by George Cooper
"I was here first," said the snowdrop: "look!" "Not before me!" sang the silver brook. "Why," cried the grass, "I've been here a week!" "So have I, dear," sighed a violet meek.
"Well," piped a bluebird, "don't leave me out! I saw the snow that lay round about." "Yes," chirped a snowbird, "that may be true; But I've seen it all the bleak winter through."
"I came betimes," sang the southwind, "I!" "After me, love!" spake the deep blue sky. "Who is it cares?" chimed the crickets gay: "Now you are here, let us hope you'll stay."
Whispered the sun, "Lo! the winter's past: What does it matter who's first or last? Sky, brooks, and flowers, and birdies that sing, All help to make up the beautiful spring."
If the Oak is out before the Ash, T'will be a summer of wet and splash; But if the Ash is out before the Oak, T'will be a summer of fire and smoke.
When the Hawthorne bloom too early shows, We shall have still many snows.
When the Oak puts on his goslings gray, 'Tis time to sow barley, night or day.
When Elm leaves are big as a shilling, Plant kidney beans if you are willing; When Elm leaves are as big as a penny, You must plant kidney beans if you wish to have any.
Arbor Day is in April, so I thought this was appropriate.
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills. When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a boy: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance
The waves beside them danced, but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay In such a jocund company; I gazed--and gazed--but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
Little Bunny There was a little bunny who lived in the wood. He wiggled his ears as a good bunny should. He hopped by a squirrel. He wiggled by a tree. He hopped by a duck. And he wiggled by me. He stared at the squirrel. He peeked round the tree. He stared at the duck. But he winked at me!
The spring is coming by a many signs; The trays are up, the hedges broken down That fenced the haystack, and the remnant shines Like some old antique fragment weathered brown. And where suns peep, in every sheltered place, The little early buttercups unfold A glittering star or two - till many trace The edges of the blackthorn clumps in gold. And then a little lamb bolts up behind The hill, and wags his tail to meet the yoe; And then another, sheltered from the wind, Lies all his length as dead - and lets me go Close by, and never stirs, but basking lies, With legs stretched out as though he could not rise.
Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day; And give us not to think so far away As the uncertain harvest; keep us here All simply in the springing of the year.
Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night; And make us happy in the happy bees, The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.
And make us happy in the darting bird That suddenly above the bees is heard, The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill, And off a blossom in mid air stands still.
For this is love and nothing else is love, The which it is reserved for God above To sanctify to what far ends He will, But which it only needs that we fulfil.
I'm shouting I'm singing I'm swinging through trees I'm winging sky-high With the buzzing black bees. I'm the sun I'm the moon I'm the dew on the rose. I'm a rabbit Whose habit Is twitching his nose. I'm lively I'm lovely I'm kicking my heels. I'm crying "Come dance" To the freshwater eels. I'm racing through meadows Without any coat I'm a gamboling lamb I'm a light leaping goat I'm a bud I'm a bloom I'm a dove on the wing. I'm running on rooftops And welcoming spring!
I know a little maiden, She is very fair and sweet, As she trips among the grasses That kiss her dainty feet; Her arms are full of flowers, The snow-drops, pure and white, Timid blue-eyed violets, And daffodillies bright.
She loves dear Mother Nature, And wanders by her side; She beckons to the birdlings That flock from far and wide. She wakes the baby brooklets, Soft breezes hear her call; She tells the little children The sweetest tales of all.
Her brow is sometimes clouded, And she sighs with gentle grace, Till the sunbeams, daring lovers, Kiss the teardrops from her face. Well we know this dainty maiden, For April is her name; And we welcome her with gladness, As the springtime comes again.
"You can always tell it's April By the sound of falling rain That mystic, mournful music As it trickles down the drain.
We're told we should be thankful For the kiss of April showers As it washes all the grass clean And prepares the soil for flowers.
There's another side to April Which doesn't bode us good, When that mini, manic maelstrom Turns the lawn to liquid mud." - Thomas Vaughan Jones, O' To Be in April
Boats sail on the rivers, And ships sail on the seas; But clouds that sail across the sky Are prettier than these.
There are bridges on the rivers, As pretty as you please; But the bow that bridges heaven, And overtops the trees, And builds a road from earth to sky, Is prettier far than these.
17 comments:
Jennifer Stevens
April Poem
Due: Sept. 21
Happy Chinese New Year
By Helen H. Moore
"Gung Hay Fat Choy!"
In China, every girl and boy
Celebrates the New Year
in a very special way -
With fireworks and dragons,
colored red and gold -
They welcome in the new year
and chase away the old!
April is national poetry month, so I took this opportunity to include a poem from one of my favorite poets as a child.
Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
What the Robin Told
unknown
The wind
told the grasses,
And the grasses
told the trees.
The trees
told the bushes,
And the bushes
told the bees.
The bees
told the robin,
And the robin
sang out clear:
Wake up!
Wake up!
A Bad Case of the Sneezes
by Bruce Lansky
Last night I had the sneezes.
I was really very ill.
My mother called the doctor
who prescribed a purple pill.
At eight o'clock I went to bed.
My mom turned out the light.
I used up one whole box of Kleenex
sneezing through the night.
I sneezed my brains out in my bed.
I didn't get much rest.
So that's the reason, teacher,
that I flunked the spelling test
Rain, Rain, Go Away
Mother Goose
Rain, rain, go away,
Come again some other day,
Little Johnny wants to play.
Rain, rain, go to Spain,
Never show your face again.
jacques
Jacque Schawe
April Poem
due Sept.21
The Beautiful Spring
by George Cooper
"I was here first," said the snowdrop: "look!"
"Not before me!" sang the silver brook.
"Why," cried the grass, "I've been here a week!"
"So have I, dear," sighed a violet meek.
"Well," piped a bluebird, "don't leave me out!
I saw the snow that lay round about."
"Yes," chirped a snowbird, "that may be true;
But I've seen it all the bleak winter through."
"I came betimes," sang the southwind, "I!"
"After me, love!" spake the deep blue sky.
"Who is it cares?" chimed the crickets gay:
"Now you are here, let us hope you'll stay."
Whispered the sun, "Lo! the winter's past:
What does it matter who's first or last?
Sky, brooks, and flowers, and birdies that sing,
All help to make up the beautiful spring."
April Fools' Day
by Kenn Nesbitt
Mackenzie put a whoopee cushion
on the teacher’s chair.
Makayla told the teacher
that a bug was in her hair.
Alyssa brought an apple
with a purple gummi worm
and gave it to the teacher
just to see if she would squirm.
Elijah left a piece of plastic
dog-doo on the floor,
and Vincent put some plastic vomit
in the teacher’s drawer.
Amanda put a goldfish
in the teacher’s drinking glass.
These April Fools’ Day pranks
are ones that you could try in class.
Before you go and use them, though,
there’s something I should mention:
The teacher wasn’t fooling
when she put us in detention.
Spring Festivals:
Berries
Strawberry
Red, Seedy
Yummy, Squishy, Sweet
Black, Lumpy
Blackberries
Tree Weather Proverbs
by Longfellow
If the Oak is out before the Ash,
T'will be a summer of wet and splash;
But if the Ash is out before the Oak,
T'will be a summer of fire and smoke.
When the Hawthorne bloom too early shows,
We shall have still many snows.
When the Oak puts on his goslings gray,
'Tis time to sow barley, night or day.
When Elm leaves are big as a shilling,
Plant kidney beans if you are willing;
When Elm leaves are as big as a penny,
You must plant kidney beans if you wish to have any.
Arbor Day is in April, so I thought this was appropriate.
Daffodils
Williams Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills.
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a boy:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company;
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Jessica Gardner
April Poem
Little Bunny
There was a little bunny who lived in the wood.
He wiggled his ears as a good bunny should.
He hopped by a squirrel.
He wiggled by a tree.
He hopped by a duck.
And he wiggled by me.
He stared at the squirrel.
He peeked round the tree.
He stared at the duck.
But he winked at me!
http://www.westirondequoit.org/southlawn/Brookins/april_poems.htm
Young Lambs
The spring is coming by a many signs;
The trays are up, the hedges broken down
That fenced the haystack, and the remnant shines
Like some old antique fragment weathered brown.
And where suns peep, in every sheltered place,
The little early buttercups unfold
A glittering star or two - till many trace
The edges of the blackthorn clumps in gold.
And then a little lamb bolts up behind
The hill, and wags his tail to meet the yoe;
And then another, sheltered from the wind,
Lies all his length as dead - and lets me go
Close by, and never stirs, but basking lies,
With legs stretched out as though he could not rise.
John Clare
A Prayer in Spring
Robert Frost (1915)
Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year.
Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.
And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stands still.
For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfil.
Spring
by Karla Kuskin
I'm shouting
I'm singing
I'm swinging through trees
I'm winging sky-high
With the buzzing black bees.
I'm the sun
I'm the moon
I'm the dew on the rose.
I'm a rabbit
Whose habit
Is twitching his nose.
I'm lively
I'm lovely
I'm kicking my heels.
I'm crying "Come dance"
To the freshwater eels.
I'm racing through meadows
Without any coat
I'm a gamboling lamb
I'm a light leaping goat
I'm a bud
I'm a bloom
I'm a dove on the wing.
I'm running on rooftops
And welcoming spring!
A Child of Spring
by Ellen Robena Field
I know a little maiden,
She is very fair and sweet,
As she trips among the grasses
That kiss her dainty feet;
Her arms are full of flowers,
The snow-drops, pure and white,
Timid blue-eyed violets,
And daffodillies bright.
She loves dear Mother Nature,
And wanders by her side;
She beckons to the birdlings
That flock from far and wide.
She wakes the baby brooklets,
Soft breezes hear her call;
She tells the little children
The sweetest tales of all.
Her brow is sometimes clouded,
And she sighs with gentle grace,
Till the sunbeams, daring lovers,
Kiss the teardrops from her face.
Well we know this dainty maiden,
For April is her name;
And we welcome her with gladness,
As the springtime comes again.
"You can always tell it's April
By the sound of falling rain
That mystic, mournful music
As it trickles down the drain.
We're told we should be thankful
For the kiss of April showers
As it washes all the grass clean
And prepares the soil for flowers.
There's another side to April
Which doesn't bode us good,
When that mini, manic maelstrom
Turns the lawn to liquid mud."
- Thomas Vaughan Jones, O' To Be in April
The Rainbow
~Christina Rossetti
Boats sail on the rivers,
And ships sail on the seas;
But clouds that sail across the sky
Are prettier than these.
There are bridges on the rivers,
As pretty as you please;
But the bow that bridges heaven,
And overtops the trees,
And builds a road from earth to sky,
Is prettier far than these.
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