DanFosing/public-domain-poetry huggingface dataset:
Jack And Jill.
by Clara Doty Bates

Little boys, sit still--
Girls, too, if you will--
And let me tell you of Jack and Jill;
For I think another
Such sister and brother
Were never the children of one mother!
For an idle lad,
As he was, Jack had
No traits, after all, that were very bad.
He, was simply Jack,
With the coat on his back
Patched up in all colors from gray to black.
Both feet were bare;
And I do declare
That he never washed his face; and his hair
Was the color of straw--
You never saw
Such a crop--as long as the moral law!
When he went to school,
It was the rule
(Though 'twas hard to say he was really a fool)
To send him at once,
So thick was his sconce,
To the block that was kept for the greatest dunce.
And Jill! no lass
Scarce ever has
Made bigger tracks on the country grass;
For her only fun
Was to romp and run,
Bare-headed, bare-footed, in wind and sun.
Wherever went Jack,
Close on his track,
With hair unbraided and down her back,
Loud-voiced and shrill,
She followed, until
No one said "Jack" without saying "Jill."
But to succeed
In teaching to read
Such a harum-scarum, was work indeed!
And I'm forced to tell
That her way to spell
Her name was with only a single 'l.'
Yet they were content.
One day they were sent
To the hill for water, and they went.
They did not drown,
But Jack fell down,
With a pail in his hand, and broke his crown!
And Jill, who must go
And always do
Exactly as Jack did, tumbled too!
Just think, if you will,
How they rolled down hill--
Straw-headed Jack and bare-footed Jill!
But up Jack got,
And home did trot,
Nor cared whether Jill was hurt or not;
While his poor bruised knob
Did burn and throb,
Tear falling on tear, sob following sob!
He could run the faster,
So a paper plaster
Had bound up the sight of his disaster
Before Jill came;
And the thoughtful dame,
For a break in her head, had fixed the same.
But Jill came in,
With a saucy grin
At seeing the plight poor Jack was in;
And when she saw
That bundle of straw
(His hair) bound up with a cloth, and his jaw
Tied up in white,
The comical sight
Made her clap her hands and laugh outright!
The dame, perplexed
And dreadfully vexed,
Got a stick and said, "I'll whip her next!"
How many blows fell
I will not tell,
But she did it in earnest, she did it well,
Till the naughty back
Was blue and black,
And Jill needed a plaster as much as Jack!
The next time, though,
Jack has to go
To the hill for water, I almost know
That bothering Jill
Will go up the hill,
And if he falls again, why, of course she will!
Nursery Rhyme. CCCCLXV. Love And Matrimony.
by Unknown

Little Jack Dandy-prat was my first suitor;
He had a dish and a spoon, and he'd some pewter;
He'd linen and woollen, and woollen and linen,
A little pig in a string cost him five shilling.
The Brook-Song
by James Whitcomb Riley

Little brook! Little brook!
You have such a happy look -
Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and
curve and crook -
And your ripples, one and one,
Reach each other's hands and run
Like laughing little children in the sun!
Little brook, sing to me:
Sing about a bumblebee
That tumbled from a lily-bell and grumbled
mumblingly,
Because he wet the film
Of his wings, and had to swim,
While the water-bugs raced round and
laughed at him!
Little brook-sing a song
Of a leaf that sailed along
Down the golden-braided centre of your current
swift and strong,
And a dragon-fly that lit
On the tilting rim of it,
And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.
And sing - how oft in glee
Came a truant boy like me,
Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting
melody,
Till the gurgle and refrain
Of your music in his brain
Wrought a happiness as keen to him
as pain.
Little brook-laugh and leap!
Do not let the dreamer weep:
Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in
softest sleep;
And then sing soft and low
Through his dreams of long ago -
Sing back to him the rest he used to
know!
A Southern Lullaby
by Virna Sheard

Little honey baby, shet yo' eyes up tight; - 
(Shadow-man is comin' from de moon!) - 
You's as sweet as roses if dey is so pink an white;
(Shadow-man '11 get here mighty soon.)
Little honey baby, keep yo' footses still! - 
(Rocky-bye, oh, rocky, rocky-bye!)
Hush yo' now, an listen to dat lonesome whippo'-will;
Don't yo' fix yo' lip an start to cry.
Little honey baby, stop dat winkin' quick!;
(Hear de hoot-owl in de cotton-wood!)
Yess - I sees yo' eyes adoin' dat dere triflin' trick - 
(He gets chillun if dey isn't good.)
Little honey baby, what yo' think yo' see? - 
(Sister keep on climbin' to de sky - )
Dat's a June bug - it aint got no stinger, lak a bee - 
(Reach de glory city by an by.)
Little honey baby, what yo' skeery at? - 
(Go down, Moses - down to Phar-e-oh,) - 
No - dat isn't nuffin but a furry fly-round bat; - 
(Say, he'd betta let dose people go.)
Little honey baby, yo' is all ma own, - 
Deed yo' is. - Yes, - dat's a fia-fly; - 
If I didn't hab yo' - reckon I'd be all alone;
(Rocky-bye - oh, rocky, rocky-bye.)
Little honey baby, shet yo' eyes up tight; - 
(Shadow man is comin' from de moon,)
You's as sweet as roses, if dey is so pink and white;
(Shadow-man '11 get here mighty soon.)
The lines in brackets are supposed to be sung or chanted.
The Southern "Mammy" seldom sang a song through, but interladed it with comments. - V.S.
An Invitation To Sleep
by Eugene Field

Little eyelids, cease your winking;
Little orbs, forget to beam;
Little soul, to slumber sinking,
Let the fairies rule your dream.
Breezes, through the lattice sweeping,
Sing their lullabies the while--
And a star-ray, softly creeping
To thy bedside, woos thy smile.
But no song nor ray entrancing
Can allure thee from the spell
Of the tiny fairies dancing
O'er the eyes they love so well.
See, we come in countless number--
I, their queen, and all my court--
Haste, my precious one, to slumber
Which invites our fairy sport.
Merry Christmas And Happy New Year!
by Ellis Parker Butler

Little cullud Rastus come a-skippin' down de street,
A-smilin' and a-grinnin' at every one he meet;
My, oh! He was happy! Boy, but was he gay!
Wishin' 'Merry Chris'mus' an' 'Happy New-Year's Day'!
Wishin' that his wishes might every one come true,
And, bless your dear heart, honey, I wish the same to you!
Lullaby Of The Iroquois
by Emily Pauline Johnson

Little brown baby-bird, lapped in your nest,
Wrapped in your nest,
Strapped in your nest,
Your straight little cradle-board rocks you to rest;
Its hands are your nest;
Its bands are your nest;
It swings from the down-bending branch of the oak;
You watch the camp flame, and the curling grey smoke;
But, oh, for your pretty black eyes sleep is best, - 
Little brown baby of mine, go to rest.
Little brown baby-bird swinging to sleep,
Winging to sleep,
Singing to sleep,
Your wonder-black eyes that so wide open keep,
Shielding their sleep,
Unyielding to sleep,
The heron is homing, the plover is still,
The night-owl calls from his haunt on the hill,
Afar the fox barks, afar the stars peep, - 
Little brown baby of mine, go to sleep.
Little Brown Baby
by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes,
Come to yo' pappy an' set on his knee.
What you been doin', suh--makin' san' pies?
Look at dat bib--you's ez du'ty ez me.
Look at dat mouf--dat's merlasses, I bet;
Come hyeah, Maria, an' wipe off his han's.
Bees gwine to ketch you an' eat you up yit,
Bein' so sticky an sweet--goodness lan's!
Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes,
Who's pappy's darlin' an' who 's pappy's chile?
Who is it all de day nevah once tries
Fu' to be cross, er once loses dat smile?
Whah did you git dem teef? My, you 's a scamp!
Whah did dat dimple come f'om in yo' chin?
Pappy do' know you--I b'lieves you 's a tramp;
Mammy, dis hyeah's some ol' straggler got in!
Let's th'ow him outen de do' in de san',
We do' want stragglers a-layin' 'roun' hyeah;
Let's gin him 'way to de big buggah-man;
I know he's hidin' erroun' hyeah right neah.
Buggah-man, buggah-man, come in de do',
Hyeah 's a bad boy you kin have fu' to eat.
Mammy an' pappy do' want him no mo',
Swaller him down f'om his haid to his feet!
Dah, now, I t'ought dat you 'd hug me up close.
Go back, ol' buggah, you sha'n't have dis boy.
He ain't no tramp, ner no straggler, of co'se;
He's pappy's pa'dner an' play-mate an' joy.
Come to you' pallet now--go to yo' res;
Wisht you could allus know ease an' cleah skies;
Wisht you could stay jes' a chile on my breas'--
Little brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes!
Nursery Rhyme. CCCCLI. Love And Matrimony.
by Unknown

Little Jack Jingle,
He used to live single:
But when he got tired of this kind of life,
He left off being single, and liv'd with his wife.
Dedication To Hewitt Hanson Howland With Halest Christmas Greetings And Fraternal
by James Whitcomb Riley

Little Boy! Halloo! - halloo!
Can't you hear me calling you? - 
Little Boy that used to be,
Come in here and play with me.
Lady Icicle
by Emily Pauline Johnson

Little Lady Icicle is dreaming in the north-land
And gleaming in the north-land, her pillow all a-glow;
For the frost has come and found her
With an ermine robe around her
Where little Lady Icicle lies dreaming in the snow.
Little Lady Icicle is waking in the north-land,
And shaking in the north-land her pillow to and fro;
And the hurricane a-skirling
Sends the feathers all a-whirling
Where little Lady Icicle is waking in the snow.
Little Lady Icicle is laughing in the north-land,
And quaffing in the north-land her wines that overflow;
All the lakes and rivers crusting
That her finger-tips are dusting,
Where little Lady Icicle is laughing in the snow.
Little Lady Icicle is singing in the north-land,
And bringing from the north-land a music wild and low;
And the fairies watch and listen
Where her silver slippers glisten,
As little Lady Icicle goes singing through the snow.
Little Lady Icicle is coming from the north-land,
Benumbing all the north-land where'er her feet may go;
With a fringe of frost before her
And a crystal garment o'er her,
Little Lady Icicle is coming with the snow.
Nursery Rhyme. DCXX. Relics.
by Unknown

Little girl, little girl, where have you been?
Gathering roses to give to the queen.
Little girl, little girl, what gave she you?
She gave me a diamond as big as my shoe.
Europe
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Little lads and grandsires,
Women old with care;
But all the men are dying men
Or dead men over there.
No one stops to dig graves;
Who has time to spare?
The dead men, the dead men
How the dead men stare.
Kings are out a-hunting - 
Oh, the sport is rare;
With dying men and dead men
Falling everywhere.
Life for lads and grandsires;
Spoils for kings to share;
And dead men, dead men,
Dead men everywhere.
Puer C'ruleus.
by Jacob Bigelow

Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn,
The cow's in the meadow, the sheep in the corn.
Where's the little boy that looks after the sheep?
Under the haycock fast asleep.
C'rule parve puer, cornu nunc suscipe cantum.
Per segetes errant pecudes, per pascua vacc'.
Ah, ubi nunc ovium custos tam parvulus absit?
En, gregis oblitus sub f'no dormit opaco.
Contentment
by Oliver Wendell Holmes

"Man wants but little here below"
Little I ask; my wants are few;
I only wish a hut of stone,
(A very plain brown stone will do,)
That I may call my own; - 
And close at hand is such a one,
In yonder street that fronts the sun.
Plain food is quite enough for me;
Three courses are as good as ten; - 
If Nature can subsist on three,
Thank Heaven for three. Amen
I always thought cold victual nice; - 
My choice would be vanilla-ice.
I care not much for gold or land; - 
Give me a mortgage here and there, - 
Some good bank-stock, some note of hand,
Or trifling railroad share, - 
I only ask that Fortune send
A little more than I shall spend.
Honors are silly toys, I know,
And titles are but empty names;
I would, perhaps, be Plenipo, - 
But only near St. James;
I'm very sure I should not care
To fill our Gubernator's chair.
Jewels are baubles; 't is a sin
To care for such unfruitful things; - 
One good-sized diamond in a pin, - 
Some, not so large, in rings, - 
A ruby, and a pearl, or so,
Will do for me; - I laugh at show.
My dame should dress in cheap attire;
(Good, heavy silks are never dear;) - 
I own perhaps I might desire
Some shawls of true Cashmere, - 
Some marrowy crapes of China silk,
Like wrinkled skins on scalded milk.
I would not have the horse I drive
So fast that folks must stop and stare;
An easy gait - two, forty-five - 
Suits me; I do not care; - 
Perhaps, for just a single spurt,
Some seconds less would do no hurt.
Of pictures, I should like to own
Titians and Raphaels three or four, - 
I love so much their style and tone,
One Turner, and no more,
(A landscape, - foreground golden dirt, - 
The sunshine painted with a squirt.)
Of books but few, - some fifty score
For daily use, and bound for wear;
The rest upon an upper floor; - 
Some little luxury there
Of red morocco's gilded gleam
And vellum rich as country cream.
Busts, cameos, gems, - such things as these,
Which others often show for pride,
I value for their power to please,
And selfish churls deride; - 
One Stradivarius, I confess,
Two Meerschaums, I would fain possess.
Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not learn,
Nor ape the glittering upstart fool; - 
Shall not carved tables serve my turn,
But all must be of buhl?
Give grasping pomp its double share, - 
I ask but one recumbent chair.
Thus humble let me live and die,
Nor long for Midas' golden touch;
If Heaven more generous gifts deny,
I shall not miss them much, - 
Too grateful for the blessing lent
Of simple tastes and mind content!
The Visitor
by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Little lady at de do',
W'y you stan' dey knockin'?
Nevah seen you ac' befo'
In er way so shockin'.
Don' you know de sin it is
Fu' to git my temper riz
Wen I 's got de rheumatiz
An' my jints is lockin'?
No, ol' Miss ain't sont you down,
Don' you tell no story;
I been seed you hangin' 'roun'
Dis hyeah te'itory.
You des come fu' me to tell
You a tale, an' I ain'--well--
Look hyeah, what is dat I smell?
Steamin' victuals? Glory!
Come in, Missy, how you do?
Come up by de fiah,
I was jokin', chile, wid you;
Bring dat basket nighah.
Huh uh, ain't dat lak ol' Miss,
Sen'in' me a feas' lak dis?
Rheumatiz cain't stop my bliss,
Case I's feelin' spryah.
Chicken meat an' gravy, too,
Hot an' still a-heatin';
Good ol' sweet pertater stew;
Missy b'lieves in treatin'.
Des set down, you blessed chile,
Daddy got to t'ink a while,
Den a story mek you smile
Wen he git thoo eatin'.
The Feast Of Lights
by Morris Rosenfeld

Little candles glistening,
Telling those are listening
Legends manifold,
Many a little story,
Tales of blood and glory
Of the days of old.
As I watch you flicker,
As I list you bicker,
Speak the ancient dreams:
--You have battled, Jew, one time,
You have conquer'd too, one time.
(God, how strange it seems!)
In your midst was order once,
And within your border once
Strangers took no part.
Jew, you had a land one time,
And an armed hand, one time.
(How it moves the heart!)
Glisten, candles, glisten!
As I stand and listen
All the grief in me,
All the woe is stirred again,
And the question heard again:
What the end shall be?
Nursery Rhyme. DCX. Local.
by Unknown

Little lad, little lad, where wast thou born?
Far off in Lancashire, under a thorn,
Where they sup sour milk in a ram's horn.
Little Orphant Annie
by James Whitcomb Riley

Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep;
An' all us other childern, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales 'at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns 'at gits you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!
Onc't they was a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,
An' when he went to bed at night, away up stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wasn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press,
An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I guess;
But all they found was thist his pants an' roundabout:
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!
An' one time a little girl 'ud allus laugh and grin,
An' make fun of ever'one, an' all her blood an' kin;
An' onc't, when they was "company," an' ole folks was there,
She mocked 'em an' shocked 'em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They was two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' 'fore she knowed what she's about!
An' the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!
An' little Orphant Annie says, when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightn'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,
You better mind yer parents, an' yer teachers fond an' dear,
An' churish them 'at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones 'at clusters all about
Er the Gobble-uns 'll git you
Ef you
Don't
Watch
Out!
A Summer Wish
by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Live all thy sweet life thro',
Sweet Rose, dew-sprent,
Drop down thine evening dew
To gather it anew
When day is bright:
I fancy thou wast meant
Chiefly to give delight.
Sing in the silent sky,
Glad soaring bird;
Sing out thy notes on high
To sunbeam straying by
Or passing cloud;
Heedless if thou art heard
Sing thy full song aloud.
Oh that it were with me
As with the flower;
Blooming on its own tree
For butterfly and bee
Its summer morns:
That I might bloom mine hour
A rose in spite of thorns.
Oh that my work were done
As birds' that soar
Rejoicing in the sun:
That when my time is run
And daylight too,
I so might rest once more
Cool with refreshing dew.
The Linnet.
by John Hartley

Little linnet, - stop a minnit, - 
Let me have a tawk with thee:
Tell me what this life has in it,
Maks thee seem so full o' glee?
Why is pleasure i' full measure,
Thine throo rooasy morn to neet,
Has ta fun some wondrous treasure,
Maks thi be for ivver breet?
-    -    -    -    - 
Sang the linnet, - "wait a minnit,
Let me whisper in thine ear;
Life has lots o' pleasure in it,
Though a shadow's oftimes near.
Ivvery shoolder has its burden,
Ivvery heart its weight o' care;
But if bravely yo accept it,
Duty finds some pleasure thear.
Lazy louts dooant know what rest is, - 
Those who labor find rest sweet;
Grumling souls ne'er know what best is, - 
Blessins wither 'neath ther feet.
Sorrow needs noa invitation, - 
Joy is shy an must be sowt;
Grief seeks onny sitiwation, - 
Willin to accept for nowt.
All pure pleasure is retirin,
Allus modest, - shrinkin, - shy, - 
Like a violet, - but goa seek it,
An yo'll find it by-an-bye.
Birds an blossoms, - shaars an sunshine,
Strive to cheer man on his way;
An its nobbut them 'at willn't,
'At cant taste some joy each day.
Awm a teeny little songster, - 
All mi feathers plainly grave;
But aw wish noa breeter plumage,
Awm content wi' what aw have.
An mi mate is just as lovin,
An he sings as sweet to me, - 
An his message nivver varies, - 
'Love me love, as aw love thee.'
An together, o'er awr nestlins,
We keep watch, i' hooaps to see,
They may sooin share in awr gladness
Full ov love, - from envy free.
Grumbler, - cast a look araand thi; - 
Is this world or thee to blame?
Joys an blessins all surraand thi, - 
Dar to grummel? - fie, - for shame!"
-    -    -    -    - 
An that linnet, in a minnit,
Flitted off, the trees among;
An those joys its heart had in it,
Ovverflowed i' limpid song.
An it left me sittin, blinkin,
As it trill'd its nooats wi glee; - 
An truly, - to my way o' thinkin,
Th' linnet's far moor sense nor me.
Nursery Rhyme. LXX. Tales.
by Unknown

Little Tom Tittlemouse,
Lived in a bell-house;
The bell-house broke,
And Tom Tittlemouse woke.
The Oak
by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Live thy Life,
Young and old,
Like yon oak,
Bright in spring,
Living gold;
Summer-rich
Then; and then
Autumn-changed
Soberer-hued
Gold again.
All his leaves
Fall'n at length,
Look, he stands,
Trunk and bough
Naked strength.
On Himself (2)
by Robert Herrick

Live by thy Muse thou shalt, when others die,
Leaving no fame to long posterity;
When monarchies trans-shifted are, and gone,
Here shall endure thy vast dominion.
Nursery Rhyme. CCCCLXXXVI. Love And Matrimony.
by Unknown

Little Tom Dandy
Was my first suitor,
He had a spoon and dish,
And a little pewter.
In Hospital - VII - Vigil
by William Ernest Henley

Lived on one's back,
In the long hours of repose,
Life is a practical nightmare -
Hideous asleep or awake.
Shoulders and loins
Ache - - -!
Ache, and the mattress,
Run into boulders and hummocks,
Glows like a kiln, while the bedclothes -
Tumbling, importunate, daft -
Ramble and roll, and the gas,
Screwed to its lowermost,
An inevitable atom of light,
Haunts, and a stertorous sleeper
Snores me to hate and despair.
All the old time
Surges malignant before me;
Old voices, old kisses, old songs
Blossom derisive about me;
While the new days
Pass me in endless procession:
A pageant of shadows
Silently, leeringly wending
On . . . and still on . . . still on!
Far in the stillness a cat
Languishes loudly.    A cinder
Falls, and the shadows
Lurch to the leap of the flame.    The next man to me
Turns with a moan; and the snorer,
The drug like a rope at his throat,
Gasps, gurgles, snorts himself free, as the night-nurse,
Noiseless and strange,
Her bull's eye half-lanterned in apron,
(Whispering me, 'Are ye no sleepin' yet?'),
Passes, list-slippered and peering,
Round . . . and is gone.
Sleep comes at last -
Sleep full of dreams and misgivings -
Broken with brutal and sordid
Voices and sounds that impose on me,
Ere I can wake to it,
The unnatural, intolerable day.
Nursery Rhyme. CCIX. Riddles.
by Unknown

[A candle.]
Little Nancy Etticoat,
In a white petticoat,
And a red nose;
The longer she stands,
The shorter she grows.
Sounds And Sights
by Madison Julius Cawein

Little leaves, that lean your ears
From each branch and bough of spring,
What is that your rapture hears?
Song of bird or flight of wing,
All so eager, little ears?
"Hush, oh, hush! Oh, don't you hear
Steps of beauty drawing near?
Neither flight of bee nor bird
Hark! the steps of Love are heard!"...
Little buds, that crowd with eyes
Every bush and every tree,
What is this that you surmise?
What is that which you would see,
So attentive, little eyes?
"Look, oh, look! Oh, can't you see
Loveliness camps 'neath each tree?
See her hosts and hear them sing,
Marching with the maiden Spring!"
Expenses Exhaust.
by Robert Herrick

Live with a thrifty, not a needy fate;
Small shots paid often waste a vast estate.
Nursery Rhyme. LVI. Tales.
by Unknown

Little Tommy Tittlemouse
Lived in a little house;
He caught fishes
In other men's ditches.
Nursery Rhyme. DCXXXI. Relics.
by Unknown

Little Tom Tucker
Sings for his supper;
What shall he eat?
White bread and butter.
How shall he cut it
Without e'er a knife?
How will he be married
Without e'er a wife?
Nursery Rhyme. DXXVIII. Natural History.
by Unknown

Little Robin Red-breast,
Sat upon a hirdle;
With a pair of speckled legs,
And a green girdle.
Little Yam Mango.
by Richard Hunter

Little Yam Mango
Has beautiful eyes,
Also the brightest
Of scarlet neckties.
Little Yam Mango
Will never go out;
Being so lazy,
He's grown very stout.
Nursery Rhyme. DXXVII. Natural History.
by Unknown

Little Robin Red-breast
Sat upon a rail:
Niddle naddle went his head,
Wiggle waggle went his tail.