THE TRUE HISTORY OF THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE

 

HEY, diddle diddle!
 The cat and the fiddle! 

He played such a merry tune, 

That the cow went mad 

With the pleasure she had, 

And jumped right over the moon.

But then don't you see? 

Before that could be,

 The moon had come down and listened 

The little dog hearkened, 

So loud that he barkened, 

"There's nothing like it there isn' t."

Hey, diddle diddle! 

Went the cat and the fiddle,

 Hey, diddle, diddle dee dee!

The dog laughed at the sport 

Till his cough cut him short,

 It was hey, diddle, diddle, oh me! 

And back came the cow 

With a merry, merry low, 

For she d humbled the man in the moon,    

The dish got excited, 

The spoon was delighted, 

And the dish waltzed away with the spoon.

But the man in the moon, 

Coming back too soon 

From the famous town of Norwich, 

Caught up the dish, 

Said "It's just what I wish, 

To hold my cold plum-porridge!"

Gave the cow a rat-tat, 

Flung water on the cat, 

And sent him away like a rocket. 

Said "O moon, there you are!" 

Got into her car, 

And went off with the spoon in his pocket.

Hey ho! diddle, diddle! 

The wet cat and wet fiddle, 

They made such a caterwauling, 

That the cow in a fright 

Stood bolt upright  

Bellowing now, and bawling? 

And the dog on his tail, 

Stretched his neck with a wail. 

But "Ho ho!" said the man in the moon-

"No more in the South 

Shall I burn my mouth, 

For I have found a dish and a spoon."

By GEORGE MAC DONALD 

References:

THE PEEP-SHOW 1875    

To a Baby

 

To a Baby *

by Anonymous

WHERE did you come from, Baby dear? 
'Out of the everywhere, into here. 

Where did you get your eyes so blue? 

'Out of the sky, as I came through.'

What makes the light in them sparkle and spin? 

'Some of the starry spikes left in.'

What makes your forehead so smooth and high? 

'A soft hand stroked it as I came by.' 

Where did you get that little tear? 

'I found it waiting, when I got here.' 

What makes your cheek like a warm, white rose? 

'I saw something better than anyone knows.' 

Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss? 

'Three angels gave me at once a kiss.' 

Where did you get this pearly ear? 

'God spoke and it came out to hear.'

*- The Editor trusts she is not infringing any copyright in inserting this quaint and beautiful little poem, the authorship of which is unknown to her.

11649  df 9 

References

1.Friendly leaves 1882  

2. FLORA AND SYLVA 1903

LEGEND OF THE PRIMROSE

 

LEGEND OF THE PRIMROSE 

BY ALICE J. CLEATOR, OHIO 

ONCE the primrose, it is said, 
In the days of long ago 

Was as white as wind-blown snow. 

"Primrose, O how pale you are! 

Really you are quite absurd." 

Cried the blossoms near and far.

 White as morning's fading star 

Primrose answered not a word. 

But one day the kindly sun 

Changed the primrose's pallid hue 

To a color bright and new. 

Swift her petals wore the gleam 

Of the sunshine's golden beam. 

In delight the blossoms cried 

"Primrose, you re the garden's pride!"

References:

The Mayflower 1904

FALCON- COLORING PAGE AND FREEHAND PAPER CUTTING

 FALCON-  COLORING PAGE AND FREEHAND PAPER CUTTING

What is the actual distinction between the hawks and the falcons?  Both species belong to the family Falconidae of the order Accipitres, but they are assigned to different genera -Astur and Falce . If you  once see a hawk and a falcon side by side alive, and on the wing- you will easily appreciate one great dissimilarity.  Hawks have short wings and long tails, while the falcons have short tails and wings of medium length. 

To the ornithologist however there is one anatomical difference that at once identifies the falcon viz the very distinct tooth or notch on the upper half or mandible of his bill. The hawks do not have this tooth and the upper half of their bills shows a curve. 

References: South African Gardening and Country Life 1926

HAWK- COLORING PAGE AND FREEHAND PAPER CUTTING

 What is the actual distinction between the hawks and the falcons?  Both species belong to the family Falconidae of the order Accipitres, but they are assigned to different genera -Astur and Falce . If you  once see a hawk and a falcon side by side alive, and on the wing- you will easily appreciate one great dissimilarity.  Hawks have short wings and long tails, while the falcons have short tails and wings of medium length. 

To the ornithologist however there is one anatomical diff- erence that at once identifies the falcon viz the very distinct tooth or notch on the upper half or mandible of his bill. The hawks do not have this tooth and the upper half of their bills shows a curve. 

References: South African Gardening and Country Life 1926

THE ROSE AND THORNS

 

THE ROSE AND THORNS - DIALOGUE POEM

CHILD:

 O Rose, I think it is horrid! 
Just see this naughty thorn! 

I wish you'd grow with nice smooth 

Like golden-rod or corn. 

ROSE:

 

Each rose must have its thorns, dear child, 

'-Tis right God made it so; 

They keep the naughty things away 

And give us chance to grow. 

CHILD:

 

Well, Rose ,if you must have your thorns, 

And if it could be so, 

I wish you'd keep them in the ground 

Down where your roots all grow. 

ROSE:

 

There are other kinds of thorns, dear child; 

You d better look and see 

If you have any thorns yourself 

Before you talk to me.

                -Selected 

Per. 2537 d. 1/ 1892 

References:

1. Primary Plan Book 1912

2. GIRL'S OWN ANNUAL 1891

THE ROSE AND THORNS -THE POEM

 

THE ROSE AND THORNS -THE POEM

I AM the Sweet-brier, and I grow 
By the wayside hedge where the children go; 

I keep quite still till some gentle child 

Parts the leaves with her fingers mild; 

Then I send my breath of fragrance out, 

And smile as I hear the joyous shout, 

"The roses have come! the roses are here!

 I will carry this home to my mother dear."

References:

1. The Primary Plan Book 1912

2. The Girls Own Annual  1891 

SING A SONG OF ROSES

 

SING A SONG OF ROSES - A POEM

SING a song of roses, 
The garden's all ablow, 

White ,and cream, and crimson 

Standing in a row.

Sing a song of sunshine, 

Sunshine warm and sweet,

Chasing the little shadows 

On gold and purple feet.

Sing a song of summer, 

And sing it to the tune 

To which the robins warble 

Their lullabies in June.   

                  By HELEN M BURNSIDE 

References:

1. The Primary Plan Book 1912

2. Gardedning Illustated 1893

THERE'S NOTHING LIKE THE ROSE

THERE'S NOTHING LIKE THE ROSE 

THE lily has an air, 
And the snowdrop a grace, 

And the sweat pea a way,

And the heartsease a face,- 

Yet there's nothing like the rose

 When she blows.  

        CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 

The roses upon the cross represent the problem of Initiation. The rose is the symbol dawn, being sacred to aurora and the sun, the mercy of Venus. Adonis was changed into rose. We know of the three mystical roses:

 first the Choir of Martyrs 

the second the Mystica the Virgin of Virgins and the 

the mediator between God and man or the  Rose of Sharon 

References:

1. The Primary Plan Book 1912

2. RAYS FROM THE ROSE Of The CROSS 

3.  FLORA'S INTERPRETER OR THE AMERICAN BOOK OF FLOWERS AND SENTIMENTS BY MRS S J HALE EDITOR OF THE LADIES MAGAZINE AND AUTHOR OF NORTHWOOD SKETCHES OF AMERICAN CHARACTER & c 

AN INDIAN STORY OF THE ROBIN

 

AN INDIAN STORY OF THE ROBIN 

NATIVE AMERICAN INDIAN TALE

From Nature Study in Elementary Schools Second Reader by Mrs LL Wilson Ph D  by The MacMillan Company 

Very early was the little Indian boy taught to be brave and to endure. When he was 11 years old he had to leave his father's wigwam.
 He had to go and live in the forest by himself. Here he stayed for seven days. During all that time he did not eat even a corn cake. He did not take a drink of cool water from the stream.

He must not cry no matter how much he suffered. He must be patient and silent. Then there would come to the poor little fellow a Great Spirit. 

He would touch the boy and promise him that he would become a great warrior. 

He would give him, too, a new name. 

Once there was a great chief who had an only son.  

The child was not strong, but he was so gentle and good, that everyone loved him. 

When he was 11 years old, the poor little boy was sent to the forest. 

His mother wept when she took leave of him. She felt that she would never again see her darling. 

His father, too, was sad at heart. 

But the stern old chief felt that he must teach his son to be brave. He hoped that in time he might become head of the tribe. So he made him a little tent of birch logs.

And he spread on the floor a mat of reeds. 

Then the little boy lay down, and closed his eyes, and his father went away. 

After a few days the great chief came back and saw his little son pale and thin.

 "Father take me back," said he. "Take me back, or I shall die. 

"I do not want to be a great warrior. I want to love people, not to kill them."

 But the chief said: "Be patient, my son. In two more days I shall come for you again. 

"Then I shall bring you food, and take you home to your mother."

 On the seventh day he came and looked in the tent, and found it empty. 

But on the roof sat a robin, with a bright red breast, and sang this song:

Great chief, I was once your son, 

I shall al ways live near you, and love your people, 

I shall sing them this song:

"Chief, listen Chief, 

Be more gentle; be more loving; 

Chief, teach it, Chief; 

Be not fierce, oh, be not cruel, 

Love each other! Love each other! 

References:

1. British Birds J. Denham Bradburn 1903 

1.ROCKY MOUNTAIN EDUCATOR 1907

THE SUGAR PLUM TREE

 

THE SUGAR PLUM TREE -A POEM

From Fifth Reader Rational Method Reading by Silver Burdett & Company By permission 

Have you ever heard of the Sugar-plum Tree? 
Tis a marvel of great renown! 

It blooms on the shore of Lollipop Sea, 

In the garden of Shut-Eye Town; 

The fruit it bears is so wondrously sweet 

(As those who have tested it say), 

That good little children have only to eat 

Of that fruit to be happy next day.

 

When you ve got to the tree you will have 

hard time 

To capture the fruit; which I sing; 

The tree is so tall that no person could 

To the boughs where the sugar-plums swing!

 But up in that tree sits a chocolate cat, 

And a gingerbread dog prowls below; 

And this is the way you contrive to get at 

Those sugar plums tempting you so;  

There are marshmallows, gumdrops, and peppermint canes 

With stripings of scarlet and gold,

And you carry away of the treasure that rains 

As much as your apron can hold! 

So come, little child, cuddle closer to me 

In your dainty white nightcap and gown, 

And I ll rock you away to that Sugar plum 

Tree In the garden of Shut Eye 

                          By     Town Eugene Field 

References:

1.ROCKY MOUNTAIN EDUCATOR 1907

2.The Dwarfs Tailor And Others Fairy Tales from all Nations Collected by Zoe Dana Underhill London Osgood McIlvaine & Co 45 Albemarle Street W 1897 

HEDGE ROSES

 

HEDGE ROSES 

Music by SCHUBERT 

 Arr. by MARY S. CONRADE 

1. On his way a boy espied  
Pret ty blushing  rοses, 

Fresh and bright the hedgerow's pride, 

To admire he turns a side,

And to pluck proposes.

Roses roses rses red,

Pretty blushing roses 

2. Thus he speaks: "I gather thee,

Gayest of the roses!  

Rose says: "Better let me be,

Or you will get stung by me."

hen her spikes discloses.  

Roses roses rses red,

Pretty blushing roses 

3.  Still the rude boy pulls away 

This fair queen of roses;

With a wound he has to pay,

But in vain the rose does pray,

Him in vain opposes.   

Roses roses rses red,

Pretty blushing roses   

References:

1. The Primary Plan Book 1912

   

SAFETY RULES FOR PICKING WILD FLOWERS

 

First 

Do not pick all the flowers you see, but leave enough to furnish plenty of seeds. 

Second 

Always cut the flowers and take as little as possible of the leaf or leaf bearing shoot. 

Third 

Never disturb underground stems or roots. 

Fourth 

Flowers of any kind should not be gathered near walks or drives. 

Fifth 

Rare or unusual flowers found near a city should not be gathered, except for strictly scientific purposes.

 Sixth 

In gathering flowers from blooming shrubs or trees, take but little of the wood or leaf bearing shoot, and select the flowers from different parts of the plant. 

1. The Primary Plan Book 1912
2.JOHN MARTIN'S BOOK & The Child's Magazine AUGUST 1929 

THREE LITTLE LADS- A POEM

 

THREE LITTLE LADS- A POEM 

THREE THREE little lads one bright June day 
Went down the road and far away. 

Full many wondrous sights were seen, 

While hast'ning o'er the grass so green.

A cradle nest on tall tree swung 

The orioles by whom 'twas hung; 

A long stone wall with roses red; 

Some wee white lambs by brown old 

shed. 

A singing brook 'neath bridge of gray;

Some fishes in the pools at play; 

A boat at anchor near the shore; 

A field with daisies silvered o'er.  

A farmer driving to the town, 

With horses big, and strong, and 

brown; 

The wagon filled from garden bed 

With radishes and berries red; 

Asparagus and lettuce green, 

And eggs and butter in between. 

A host of butterflies that flew 

In lazy circles toward the blue. 

A lark that soared past tall church 

spire; 

Some saucy sparrows on a wire; 

Bees darting in and out their hive 

And big pine trees, exactly five. 

Ah, happy through the long June 

day, 

Were these three little lads at play; 

But when the sun had sunk to rest 

Each cuddled close to mother's 

breast. 

Selected 

References:

1. The Primary Plan Book 1912

2.THE SUNDAY AT HOME A Family Magazine for Sabbath Reading 1878 

JUNE

 

JUNE - THE POEM

by FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN 

O June delicious month of June, 
When winds and birds all sing in tune;

When in the meadows swarm the bees 

And hum their drowsy melodies; 

O June! the month of bluest skies, 

Dear to the pilgrim butterflies,

Who seem gay colored leaves astray, 

Blown down the amber tides of day; 

O June! the month of merry song, 

Of shadow brief, of sunshine long;

All things on earth love you best, 

The bird who carols near his nest; 

The wind that wakes and singing blows 

The spicy perfume of the rose; 

And bee who sounds his muffled horn  

And bee who sounds his muffled horn 

To celebrate the dewy morn 

And even all the stars above 

At night as happier for love, 

As if the mellow notes of mirth 

Were wafted to them from the earth. 

O June! such music haunts your name, 

With you the summer's chorus came. 

References:

1. The Primary Plan Book 1912

Over in the Meadow

 

Over in the Meadow 

By O.A. WADSWORTH 

1. Over in the meadow, 

Sitting in the sun, 
You will find a mother  toad, 

And her toadie one.

"Jump," says the mother. "I jump," said the one. 

 So they jumped and are glad 

 In the bright shining sun.  

2.Ο'ver in the meadow, 

Where the brook runs thro',

You will find a mother fish 

And her fishes two. 

"Swim," says the mother , 'We swim." said the two

 So they swim and are glad 

In the brook let so blue. 

3. Οver in the meadow,

 In an apple tree,

You will find a mother bird 

And her birdies three.

"Sing," says the mother. "We sing," said the three

So they sing and are glad 

In the old apple tree.    

4. Over in the meadow,

By the cottage door,  

You will find a mother lizzard 

And her lizzards four.

"Run," says the mother. "We run say. the four

So they run and are glad, By the old cottage door. 

 

Little Bird With Eager Wing

 

Little Bird With Eager Wing 

By MARY S CONRADE 

1. Little bird with eager wing, Stopping now and then to sing 
Can you in your  chirping way, Teach me some thing new to day?

The little bird sings in his innocent glee,

That we should be grateful and joyous as he.  

2. Busy bee from flow'r to flow'r, You are flying ev'ry hour,

Can you in your humming way, Teach me some thing new today? 

The bee does not trifle her  moments away,

And we should be active  in work or in play.    

3.Gentle breeze a long the grass, Very softly you do pass;

Can you in your rustling way, Tell us some thing new to day?

Just like the pure breezes that  soothe as they go,

May we e'er be ready to soothe others woe. 

References:

 THE PRIMARY PLAN BOOK BY MARIAN M. GEORGE A FLANAGAN COMPANY CHICAGO 1912 

  

 

Sowing and Reaping

 

Sowing and Reaping 

By JOSEPHINE POLLARD  and S.C. HANSON

1. Out in the high ways wherever we go, 
    Seed we must gather and seed we must sow,

    Even the tiniest seed has a pow'r,

 Be it a thistle, be it a flow'r.

2.Out of each moment some good we obtain,

  Some thing to win now and scatter a gain.

  All that we listen to, all that we read,

All that we think of, is gathering seed.

3.Gatheing seed, we must scatter as well;

  God will watch over the place where it fell.

  Only the gain of the harvest is ours,

  Shall we plant thistles or shall we plant flow'rs?  

    

   

  References:

 THE PRIMARY PLAN BOOK BY MARIAN M. GEORGE A FLANAGAN COMPANY CHICAGO 1912

  

The Blue-Bird Song

 

1. I know the song that the blue-bird is  singing
 Out in the be apple-tree where he is of  swinging;

Brave little fellow the, skies may be dreary,-

Nothing cares  he while his heart is so  cheery;

Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat!

Hark was there ever so  merry  a note?

Listen a while and you'll hear what he's saying,

Up in the apple tree swinging and and swaying.

2. Dear little song blossoms down under the snow, 

You must be weary  of winter, I know; 

Hark! while I sing you a message of cheer,

Summer is coming and spring time is here! 

Dear little snow, drop I pray you a rise;

Bright yellow crocus, come, pen your  eyes;

Sweet little violets hid from the say cold,

Put on your mantle of purple and gold. 

References:

THE PRIMARY PLAN BOOK BY MARIAN M GEORGE MARCH A FLANAGAN COMPANY CHICAGO 1912

  

The Blue Bird

The Blue Bird - Sialia sialis 

The Bluebird

By Maurice Thompson 

Sing strong and clear, O Bluebird, dear! 
While all the land with splendor fills, 

While maples gladden in the vales, 

And plum-trees blossom on the hills;

 Float down the wind on shining wings, 

And do thy will by grove and stream, 

While through my life spring's freshness runs 

Like music through a poet's dream. 

One of the first birds to arrive in the spring migration is the Bluebird. One may wander through the woods in the early part of March, when the icy chill of winter, and the warmth of the coming spring seem struggling for the mastery, and hear the clear sweet warble of this beautiful bird. What wonder is it that the early New England settlers called him the Blue Robin and hailed his coming with delight. 

THE BLUEBIRD 

By Rexford 

Winged lute that we call a bluebird, 

You blend in a silver strain 

The sound of the laughing waters, 

The patter of Spring's sweet rain; 

The voice of the winds, the sunshine, 

And fragrance of blossoming things. 

Ah! you are an April poem, 

That God has dowered with wings. 

THE BLUEBIRD 

By EMILY H. MILLER

I KNOW the song that the bluebird is singing 

Out in the apple-tree, where he is swinging. 

Brave little fellow! the skies may be dreary,- 

Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery. 

Hark! how the music leaps out from his throat! 

Hark! was there ever so merry a note? 

Listen awhile and you ll hear what he's saying 

Up in the apple-trees swinging and swaying. 

"Dear little blossoms, down under the snow 

You must be weary of winter, I know; 

Hark while I sing you a message of cheer; 

Summer is coming and springtime is here. 

Little white snowdrop! I pray you arise; 

Bright, yellow crocus, come open your eyes. 

Sweet little violets, hid from cold, 

Put on your mantles of purple and gold. 

Daffodils! daffodils! saym do you hear? 

Summer is coming and springtime is here." 

MEMORY GEM 

"O, BLUEBIRD, up in the maple tree, 

Shaking your throat with such bursts of glee; 

How did you happen to be so blue? 

Did you steal a bit of the sky for your crest, 

And fasten blue violets into your breast? 

Tell me, I pray you, tell me true!" 

THE BLUE BIRD.

By  EBEN E. REXFORD

Listen a moment, I pray you! 

What was that sound I heard? 

Wind in the budding branches, 

The ripple of brooks, or a bird?

Hear it again, above us, 

And see, a flutter of wings! 

The Blue bird knows it is April, 

And soars to the sun and sings. 

Never the song of the Robin 

Could make my heart so glad; 

When I hear the Blue bird singing, 

In spring, I forget to be sad. 

Never was sweeter music- 

Sunshine turned into a song, 

To set us dreaming of summer, 

When the days and the dreams are long. 

 Winged lute, that we call a Blue bird, 

You blend in a silver strain 

The sound of the laughing waters, 

The patter of spring's sweet rain. 

The voice of the winds, the sunshine, 

And fragrance of blossoming things. 

Ah! you are a poem of April 

That God has dowered with wings.

References:

1. BIRDS and NATURE IN NATURAL COLORS JANUARY 1904 ΤΟ MAY 1904 

2. The School 1917

3. THE PRIMARY PLAN BOOK BY MARIAN M. GEORGE A FLANAGAN COMPANY CHICAGO 1912

4. VICK'S ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE 1904