Be inspired by this collection of Mary Mapes Dodge poems. She was an American author and poet, with a focus on children and youth. In addition, she wrote and edited the children's magazine, St. Nicholas for over 30 years. The magazine was widely popular.
She was born on January 26, 1831, in New York City. She died on August 21, 1905, but her work still lives on today!
Ho, Dandelion! my lightsome fellow!
What's become of all your yellow?
"My bonnie yellow it wouldn't stay,
It turned about and it went away.
Till nothing at all was left of me
But the misty, feathery ball you see;
Yet pluck me off, and blow me well.
The time o' day I'll surely tell."
Whiff! whiff! "Blow again,—
Blow with all your might and main."
Whiff! whiff! That is four.
Now I've but two feathers more.
Whiff! How tight the last one sticks!
Whiff! It's gone, and that makes six.
The sun is getting low, I see,
And we must hurry home to tea.
Oh, the beauty of the Christ Child,
The gentleness, the grace,
The smiling, loving tenderness.
The infantile embrace!
All babyhood he holdeth,
All motherhood enfoldeth
Yet who hath seen his face?
Oh, the nearness of the Christ Child,
When, for a sacred space,
He nestles in our very homes
Light of the human race!
We know him and we love him,
No man to us need prove him
Yet who hath seen his face?
Little boys with pockets,
Little boys with none,
Little bright-eyed lassies
Gather, every one!
Crowd around me closely.
Would you master books?
You must first discover
How each letter looks.
My little one came, and brought me a flower.
Never a sweeter one grew;
But it faded and faded in one short hour,
And lost all its pretty blue.
My little one stayed in the room and played;
And so my flower bloomed bright, —
My beautiful blossom that did not fade,
But slept in my arms all night.
Good morning, mamma! Good-morning, bright sun!
Good-morning, papa! The day is begun.
Good-morning to every one, pussy as well:
Does he sleep like the rest, till he hears the first bell?
Good-morning it is, for the sky is all blue,
The grass is just shining and sparkling with dew;
The birdies are singing their merriest song.
And the air through the window comes sunny and strong.
Good-morning it is, for dark was the night,
And chilly and still, but the morning is bright.
If God did not watch us and bring us the day.
We'd never be able to get up and play.
Good-morning, new day! I m glad we're awake.
Your work and your sunshine and frolic to take;
And I'm glad we are able so gayly to call
Good-morning! good-morning! Good morning to all!
Baby's dreams are very bright,
Though they come at dead of night,
When the house is still;
For a moonbeam comes to take her
Where the sweetest sounds shall wake her,
Where she'll play at will.
In the dreamland, far away,
There do sleeping babies play,
There they laugh and walk.
All the day their speech is gone -
Not a foot to stand upon —
There they leap and talk.
There the pretty candle-blaze,
When they clutch it, brightly stays;
There the stars so grand
Come to meet the outstretched arm,
Leap all sparkling to the palm
Of the little hand.
But in all that wondrous place,
Still is smiling, mother's face;
Mother s touch is there;
And like music sweet and low.
Though the baby does not know,
Breathes the mother's prayer
So the baby laughs and plays
Through the happy dreamland ways
(Close to heaven, maybe),
Till the merry sunbeams take her
To her bed, and gently wake her,
— Now, come see to Baby!
Now the Noisy Winds Are Still
Poet: Mary Mapes Dodge
Now the noisy winds are still;
April's coming up the hill!
All the spring is in her train,
Led by shining ranks of rain;
Pit, pat, patter, clatter,
Sudden sun, and clatter, patter!
First the blue, and then the shower;
Bursting bud, and smiling flower;
Brooks set free with tinkling ring;
Birds too full of song to sing;
Crisp old leaves astir with pride,
Where the timid violets hide,
All things ready with a will,
April's coming up the hill!
Little white feathers, filling the air
Little white feathers! how came ye there?
"We came from the cloud-birds sailing so high;
They're shaking their white wings up in the sky."
Little white feathers, how swift you go!
Little white feathers, I love you so!
"We are swift because we have work to do;
But hold up your face, and we'll kiss you true."