Поезія англійською

"The three little kittens, they lost their mittens,"

The three little kittens, they lost their mittens, 

And they began to cry, 

"Oh, mother dear, we sadly fear, 

That we have lost our mittens." 

"What!   Lost your mittens, you naughty kittens! 

Then you shall have no pie." 

"Meow, meow, meow." 

"Then you shall have no pie." 

The three little kittens, they found their mittens, 

And they began to cry, 

"Oh, mother dear, see here, see here, 

For we have found our mittens." 

"Put on your mittens, you silly kittens, 

And you shall have some pie." 

"Purr, purr, purr, 

Oh, let us have some pie." 

The three little kittens put on their mittens, 

And soon ate up the pie, 

"Oh, mother dear, we greatly fear, 

That we have soiled our mittens." 

"What, soiled your mittens, you naughty kittens!" 

Then they began to sigh, 

"Meow, meow, meow," 

Then they began to sigh. 

The three little kittens, they washed their mittens, 

And hung them out to dry, 

"Oh, mother dear, do you not hear, 

That we have washed our mittens?" 

"What, washed your mittens, then you're good kittens, 

But I smell a rat close by." 

"Meow, meow, meow, 

We smell a rat close by."

The Star

Related Poem Content Details

BY JANE TAYLOR AND ANN TAYLOR

TWINKLE, twinkle, little star, 

How I wonder what you are ! 

Up above the world so high, 

Like a diamond in the sky. 

When the blazing sun is gone, 

When he nothing shines upon, 

Then you show your little light, 

Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. 

Then the trav'ller in the dark, 

Thanks you for your tiny spark, 

He could not see which way to go, 

If you did not twinkle so. 

In the dark blue sky you keep, 

And often thro' my curtains peep, 

For you never shut your eye, 

Till the sun is in the sky. 

'Tis your bright and tiny spark, 

Lights the trav'ller in the dark : 

Tho' I know not what you are, 

Twinkle, twinkle, little star. 

Classical Poems for Children

Humpty Dumpty's Song
~Lewis Carroll

In winter, when the fields are white,
I sing this song for your delight.

In Spring, when woods are getting green,
I'll try and tell you what I mean.

In Summer, when the days are long,
Perhaps you'll understand the song.

In Autumn, when the leaves are brown,
Take pen and ink, and write it down.

I sent a message to the fish:
I told them "This is what I wish."

The little fishes of the sea,
They sent an answer back to me.

The little fishes' answer was
"We cannot do it, Sir, because-"

I sent to them again to say
"It will be better to obey."

The fishes answered, with a grin,
"Why, what a temper you are in!"

I told them once, I told them twice:
They would not listen to advice.

I took a kettle large and new,
Fit for the deed I had to do.

My heart went hop, my heart went thump:
I filled the kettle at the pump.

Then someone came to me and said
"The little fishes are in bed."

I said to him, I said it plain,
"Then you must wake them up again."

I said it very loud and clear:
I went and shouted in his ear.

But he was very stiff and proud:
He said "You needn't shout so loud!"

And he was very proud and stiff:
He said "I'd go and wake them, if-"

I took a corkscrew from the shelf:
I went to wake them up myself.

And when I found the door was locked,
I pulled and pushed and kicked and knocked.

Annabel Lee

Related Poem Content Details

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

It was many and many a year ago, 

   In a kingdom by the sea, 

That a maiden there lived whom you may know 

   By the name of Annabel Lee; 

And this maiden she lived with no other thought 

   Than to love and be loved by me. 

I was a child and she was a child, 

   In this kingdom by the sea, 

But we loved with a love that was more than love— 

   I and my Annabel Lee— 

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven 

   Coveted her and me. 

And this was the reason that, long ago, 

   In this kingdom by the sea, 

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling 

   My beautiful Annabel Lee; 

So that her highborn kinsmen came 

   And bore her away from me, 

To shut her up in a sepulchre 

   In this kingdom by the sea. 

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven, 

   Went envying her and me— 

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know, 

   In this kingdom by the sea) 

That the wind came out of the cloud by night, 

   Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. 

But our love it was stronger by far than the love 

   Of those who were older than we— 

   Of many far wiser than we— 

And neither the angels in Heaven above 

   Nor the demons down under the sea 

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul 

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams 

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; 

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes 

   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; 

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side 

   Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride, 

   In her sepulchre there by the sea— 

   In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers

By Emily Dickinson More Emily Dickinson

"Hope" is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I've heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

A Dream Within a Dream

Related Poem Content Details

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE

Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow —

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?  

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand —

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep — while I weep!

O God! Can I not grasp 

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

Still I Rise

Maya Angelou, 1928 - 2014

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.