Poetry--spin off thread--and we need another poem!

[Alana in Canada]

OK, I admit it, I'm not a fan of poetry, not really. I think I was introduced to it too late--in high school, actually--as a "subject"--I found it obscure. While I like poems which paint a picture or nice sounding words like Eliot's "the burnt out ends of smoky days" or some such thing--I'm really at a loss when it comes to picking stuff for my kids.

This year, we have memorized "The Eagle" by Tennyson, "Who Has seen the Wind." by Christina G. Rossetti, "The Moon" by R.L. Stevenson and "True Nobility" by Edgar Guest (Thanks to Trivium Academy for that one!)

What should we do next?
Ambelside says my son should be doing Emily Dickinson--um, not, not quite yet....

As for the seven year old--well, I'm at a loss.

I need a poem for tomorrow morning...any suggestions?
Thanks.

[Karen in CO]

Arrow and the Song, The – Henry Wadsworth 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 song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend.


Tolkien from Lord of the Rings
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.



Crowded Tub by Silverstein
There are too many kids in this tub
There are too many elbows to scrub
I just washed a behind that I'm sure wasn't mine
There are too many kids in this tub.



30 days hath September,
April, June and November,
All the rest have 31,
Excepting February alone.
Which only has but 28 days clear
And 29 in each leap year
Thirty Days hath September poem



Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


Try, Try Again by Anonymous
It's a lesson all should heed,
Try, try, try again;
If at first you don't succeed,
Try, try, try again;
Then your courage will appear,
If you only persevere,
You will conquer, never fear!
Try, try, try again.

[Trivium Academy]

Robert Louis Stevenson? A Child's Garden of Verses, it's age appropriate and not very long unless you want to choose one of the longer poems.

I pulled True Nobility out of The Book of Virtues by W. Bennett, there are more poems.

A Child's Prayer
by M. Bentham-Edwards

God make my life a little light,
Within the world to glow;
A tiny flame that burneth bright
Wherever I may go.

God make my life a little flower,
That giveth joy to all,
Content to bloom in native bower,
Although its place be small.

God make my life a little song,
That comforteth the sad;
That helpeth others to be strong,
And makes the singer glad.

God make my life a little staff,
Whereon the weak may rest,
That so what health and strength I have
May serve my neighbors best.

Little Fred
by Anonymous

When little Fred
Was called to bed,
He always acted right;
He kissed Mama,
And then Papa,
And wished them all good night.

He made no noise,
Like naughty boys,
But gently up the stairs
Directly went,
When he was sent,
And always said his prayers.



Our Lips and Ears
by Anonymous

If you your lips would keep from slips,
Five things observe with care:
Of whom you speak, to whom you speak,
And how and when and where.

If you your ears would save from jeers,
These things keep meekly hid:
Myself and I, and mine and my,
And how I do and did.


It Can Be Done
by Anonymous

The man who misses all the fun
Is he who says, "It can't be done."
In solemn pride he stands aloof
And greets each venture with reproof.
Had he the power he'd efface
The history of the human race;
We'd have no radio or motor cars,
No streets lit by electric stars;
No telegraph nor telephone,
We'd linger in the age of stone.
The world would sleep if things were run
By men who say, "It can't be done."

Of course telegraphs are all the rage these days! Lol. I love poems I can use as teachable moments when the time is right. Evil laugh insert here. :p

[Alana in Canada]

Thank you!
I forgot--I have "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" as a wonderful book (illustrated by Susan Jeffers) I bought from the library sale.

And even though our snow is melting (finally!) it may be a good one to do. I can read it to them from the picture book to introduce it tomorrow! What a lovely way that will be to start our day.

Thank you so much.
and I'm going to subscribe to this thread so that the next time I have this problem, I'll be able to look these up again.

[Sweetest]

I would recommend going through the Ambleside recommendations starting from the beginning...you might not want to spend an entire year on each level, maybe just spend a month or two on each poet/book, but if you follow their recommendations you will be slowly building up to the more challenging poetry...just an idea.

[Alana in Canada]

You know, sometimes one needs someone just to point out the obvious!
I've looked at Ambelside and looked at Ambelside and I have wanted to make it work so badly--but felt we would always be behind.

But taking a month per suggestion, or even two, until we're "caught up" is just so sensible and so obvious, I'm not sure what to say!

I will investigate that approach--cause this haphazard fashion is driving me nuts.

Thanks.

[angela in ohio]

When we started memorizing poetry, I created a master list in order of increasing difficutly. I consulted various curriculum (including Ambleside,) lists online, books, etc. Now when they need another poem, we just pick the next one.

I'll link to my list, where I have links to most of them at sources online:
Poetry list with links (http://www.wallsofbooks.com/2007/02/poetry-memorization.html)

A good next one might be My Gift (http://www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/Poetry/in_the_bleak_mid_winter.htm) by Christina Rossetti (longer than the ones you have already done) or A Book (http://www.bartleby.com/104/3.html) by Emily Dickinson (about the same as you have done.)

[MIch elle]

that has poems by grade level. I love it!

Another good source is Poems Every Child Should Know (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/16436/16436-h/16436-h.htm) free on Gutenberg.

[MelissaMinNC]

DD6 (and I) just started "Picture-Books in Winter" by Robert Louis Stevenson. For no reason, other than I thought it was a good one for this time of year. Others we've worked on this year are: "The Crocodile" by Lewis Carroll, "God Just Spoke" (anonymous) and "The Months" (Mother Goose Rhyme).

Not very many, we've been pretty sporadic.

:)
Melissa

[magistramom]

Anything by Christina Rossetti!

[Linda in NE]

A Road Not Taken (Robert Frost)

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Mending Wall (Robert Frost)

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,
And spills the upper boulders in the sun,
And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.
The work of hunters is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
Where they have left not one stone on a stone,
But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,
To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
And some are loaves and some so nearly balls
We have to use a spell to make them balance:
'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'
We wear our fingers rough with handling them.
Oh, just another kind of out-door game,
One on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the wall:
He is all pine and I am apple orchard.
My apple trees will never get across
And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.
He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.
Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder
If I could put a notion in his head:
'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it
Where there are cows?
But here there are no cows.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,
But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather
He said it for himself. I see him there
Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top
In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.
He moves in darkness as it seems to me~
Not of woods only and the shade of trees.
He will not go behind his father's saying,
And he likes having thought of it so well
He says again, "Good fences make good neighbors."

For an Autograph (James Russell Lowell)

Though old the thought and oft exprest,
'Tis his at last who says it best, --
I'll try my fortune with the rest.

Life is a leaf of paper white
Whereon each one of us may write
His word or two, and then comes night.

'Lo, time and space enough,' we cry,
'To write an epic!' so we try
Our nibs upon the edge, and die.

Muse not which way the pen to hold,
Luck hates the slow and loves the bold,
Soon come the darkness and the cold.

Greatly begin! though thou have time
But for a line, be that sublime, --
Not failure, but low aim, is crime.

Ah, with what lofty hope we came!
But we forget it, dream of fame,
And scrawl, as I do here, a name.

[Sweetest]

I made an attempt to implement Ambleside this past fall...I decided that it was too busy for me and that I needed more direction so I moved back towards TWTM methods. The one ambleside "curriculum" I kept was to read a poem a day following thier progression - it is so easy...and I like easy! I hope it works out for you as well.