from Six Poems by Emily Dickinson

Bee! I'm expecting you!

Emily Dickinson

Bee! I’m expecting you!
Was saying Yesterday
To Somebody you know
That you were due —

The Frogs got Home last Week —
Are settled, and at work —
Birds, mostly back —
The Clover warm and thick —

You’ll get my Letter by
The seventeenth; Reply
Or better, be with me —
Yours, Fly.

from Nonsense Rhymes and Pictures, Op. 42.

There was an Old Man in a Tree (c. 1846)

Edward Lear

There was an Old Man in a tree,
Who was horribly bored by a bee.
When they said “Does it buzz?”
He replied “Yes, it does!
It’s a regular brute of a bee!”

Sweet baby butterfly

Kathleen Mary Easmon (1891-1924)

Sweet baby butterfly,

I love to see you flutter by

High o'er my head,

With soft white wings outspread.

I love to chase you round about,

Which is great fun, without a doubt,

   And I know you do not mind,

For I am just a Baby too,

And so you see 'twould never do

   For me to be unkind.

And shall I whisper this to you,

The laughing wind doth chase me too,

To make me run,

While flow'rs enjoy the fun.

Butterfly

Hilda Conkling (c. 1918)

Butterfly

I like the way you wear your wings.

Show me their colors,

For the light is going.

Spread out their edges of gold,

Before the Sandman puts me to sleep

And evening murmurs by.

The Green Dog

Herbert Kingsley

If my dog were green

I never would be seen

without a sea-green bonnet

with an enormous feather upon it.

Shoes of leaf-green,

Hose of tea-green,

Coat of apple-green,

Gloves of bottle-green,

In fact, I never would be seen

except in green

If my dog were green.

But, alas! no matter what you've heard,

The facts are consistently absurd,

For my dog isn't green,

And, what sets the matter even more agog -

I haven't any dog!

from Florescer

from Bright Little Worlds

from Bright Little Worlds

from Childhood Fables for Grown ups

Polaroli

Gertrude Norman

Polaroli the polar bear,

He finds the cold so nice

He loves to roll in the deepest snow

And sleep on a heap of ice.

In icewater he loves to swim,

And splish and splash and splush

And mush the cold snow under him

And snuggle in the slush.

His favorite dish is frozen fish

With icicles and spicicles and other little nicicles

and that’s his favorite dish.

And if he had his wish

Just one thing he would wish:

That all the world were made of snow

And ice and frozen fish.

from Childhood Fables for Grown ups

Lenny the Leopard

Gertrude Norman

Lenny the Leopard hated his spots.
He covered them over with purple blots 

And tied his tail in a hundred knots.

He painted his ears, one red, one blue, 

And dipped his nose in a pot of glue, 

And everything else bad leopards do.

But his mother said,
“Lenny, I still love you.
You’re my baby, and I love you.”

‍ ‍op. 18

The Ugly Duckling - Sergei Prokofiev

The Ugly Duckling

Based on Hans Christian Anderson’s story

Life was serene, there in the village!

Warm and cheerful was the sunlight, gold was the rye field, 

and sweet were the breezes all fragrant with hay.

And in the garden shade, a duck warmed her nest,

watching and waiting for her ducklings.

Oh, she was weary, and tired of the labor, of sitting and of waiting there.

Then at last with a crack, all the shells broke in half one by one.

Each duckling scrambled out and cried:

“Oh, how big is the world! Oh, how big is the world!”

Of all the baby ducklings, an ugly one appeared,

no feathers, and legs much too long.

“What an ugly turkey-bird!” said a gossipy bird nearby him.

One day the little family arrived at the farm.

“Hold up your heads, my darlings! Point your toes!  

And salute the duck as she sits so proud!  

A Spanish duck, proud and noble.  

Don’t you see the decoration tied around her leg?  

No one wears that ribbon but the most distinguished.”

The little baby ducklings bowed down once more 

and soon they became a part of life at the farmyard, happy and content.

Dismal, and sad, and so lonely was the little ugly duckling. 

His life was so awful. 

Out of the farmyard they drove him 

and said they hoped the big tomcat would devour him at sight.  

Hens came and pecked with their beaks; 

ducks were no better, kicked him away with their feet.  

And the turkey attacked him, puffing himself up just like a sail.  

How the poor little duckling cried and trembled.

And so he resolved to go far away.  Far, far, away.

Quickly, birds sitting in the trees all rose in a flutter. 

The duckling reflected, “Is it all because they think I am so ugly?”

Then he closed his eyes and on his way he sped once more 

and came to some standing water.  

Look, there were more ducklings!  

But they scorned and teased him too.

“Oh, what a monster!”  

Where e’er the duckling turned his head the wild ducks quacked and said, 

“You are very ugly!”  

The duckling said no word, but bent his head lower. 

“Don’t think for a moment you’ll marry one of us!”  

How could they have known that was far from his intention?

Oh, that was just one of many such mishaps. 

Such snubs and endless trouble the duckling bore that terrible autumn.  

And at times he would sit in the rushes and hide 

and would tremble in panic and shiver with terror.  

The guns of the hunters resounded through the whole forest.  

Dreadful to hear big dogs bark in the bullrush right over his head.

Then the gloomy winter came.  

Frozen, grew the lake, thickly covered all with ice.

The ugly duckling kept on swimming, swimming lest it all would be frozen.

‘Twould be too mournful if I told the tale of all the pains 

he bore that terrible, dreary winter.

Slow went the days until the air grew warmer, 

the land grew bright in the sunshine.  

All of the birds were happy, the trees were in bloom.  

The spring had come!

Flapping with his wings the duckling quacked for joy, 

all the winter they had grown so big and strong.  

Mounting on his wings, the duckling flew to a refreshing pond in a garden fair. 

Oh, what a beautiful place!  

Slow came gliding or the ponds where the reeds grew, 

three grand snowwhite splendid swans.

And a strange agitation seized the duckling, poor fellow, at their stately appearance.

If he dared draw nearer to them, would they not kill him these grand white birds 

when they saw poor ugly grey duckling?

But better ‘twere to die if they should kill him 

then to suffer the snubs and rebuffs he had borne in the cold wintertime!

“Oh, peck me to death,” he whispered softly, 

bending his head for the blow that would end his sorrows.

But in the clear water, what did he see?  He saw his reflection!

Joy, joy! Now he saw no grey and ugly duckling, but a snowwhite stately swan!  

Swan, swan!  Oh, how were you born with the ducklings?  

Hatched from the egg of a splendid swan?

Warm sunlight shone on his head, the water rippled and sang.  

Swans floating by him caressed him and kissed him.  

How could he have dreamed of such grand rapture?  

Was he not once the ugly duckling?

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!

Rose Fyleman

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!

It's not so very, very far away;

You pass the gardener's shed and you just keep straight ahead --

I do so hope they've really come to stay

There's a little wood, with moss in it and beetles

And a little stream that quietly runs through;

You wouldn't think they'd dare to come merrymaking there--

Well, they do

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!

They often have a dance on summer nights;

The butterflies and bees make a lovely little breeze

And the rabbits stand about and hold the lights

Did you know that they could sit upon the moonbeams

And pick a little star to make a fan

And dance away up there in the middle of the air?

Well, they can

There are fairies at the bottom of our garden!

You cannot think how beautiful they are;

They all stand up and sing when the Fairy Queen and King

Come gently floating down upon their car

The King is very proud and very handsome;

The Queen--now you can quess who that could be

(She's a little girl all day, but at night she steals away)?

Well -- it's Me!