Archive for the ‘Poems for Children’ Category


When sheep are clouds and clouds are sheep
And one lies down at night,
What is it that he counts to sleep
In failing candlelight?

Does comfort come from clouds that walk,
Or woolly sheep that fly?
Methinks if clouds or sheep could talk
They’d tell us who and why.


photo by Kevin Tuck at


© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.

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The grass is brown. Oh, Mother, why?
The rain won’t fall and so it’s dry.

The river’s slow. Oh, Mother, why?
The clouds are missing from the sky.

The deer are thin. Oh, Mother, why?
The grass is gone and some may die.

It’s dry! It’s dry! Oh, Mother, why?
We’re in a drought; for rain we cry.

Why is there drought, oh, Mother, why?
Without a rain, the weeks go by.


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2015.

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You’re Just A Tree

Out! Out to sea,
I’d love to go,
And thus I lean
To-ward my beau. 

But others cry,
“Out? Out to sea!
You cannot go;
You’re just a tree” 

And on my dream
Those others lean
And make it flat –
Not that they’re mean. 

The picture’s old;
One day a man
Came by and cut
Me with a plan. 

He took his time,
And worked with craft.
I’m not a tree;
I am a raft! 

Out! Out to sea!
No lean – I go!
And there I ride
Upon my beau.


photo by Kevin Tuck at


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.


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The Colors Of A Drought

The color of a drought is brown:
   The green in grass is gone.
And cracks upon the dusty earth
   Open their mouths and yawn. 

The creeks and streams are narrower,
   With some completely dry.
And Robin sings a thirsty song,
   And Bambi gives a sigh. 

The color of a drought is blue;
   The sky has lost its white.
The clouds are few and far between
   Like left is far from right. 

And day by day, the sky is blue
   Like water used to be
When rivers ran like swift feet fly
   And gurgled happily. 

The brown and blue of drought can paint
   A drabness in the land,
And turn the joy of man and child
   To blues as dry as sand.


link to other drought poems:


photo by Kevin Tuck at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/naGDvk0/Parched+ground


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2014.

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English: "The Jabberwock, with eyes of fl...

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)


‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
   Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
   And the mome raths outgrabe. 

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
   The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
   The frumious Bandersnatch!” 

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
   Long time the manxome foe he sought –
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
   And stood awhile in thought. 

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
   The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
   And burbled as it came! 

One, two!  One, two!  And through and through
   The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
   He went galumphing back. 

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
   Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day!  Callooh!  Callay!
   He chortled in his joy. 

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
   Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
   And the mome raths outgrabe.

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            It Is A Villain, Nell

You may think, little girl, that it is swell,
But close exam the animal will flunk.
I’m telling you: it is a villain, Nell! 

Admiring its soft hair, one cannot tell.
Focus on the tail and you are sunk.
You may think, little girl, that it is swell. 

For it, you’ll get a special place in hell
In tomato juice: a bath, a dunk.
I’m telling you: it is a villain, Nell! 

Its black and white give off no warning bell;
Dear nose and eyes will make you tell me, “bunk!”
You may think, little girl, that it is swell. 

But when it hits you with that awful smell,
You’ll end in isolation like a monk.
I’m telling you: it is a villain, Nell! 

It has appealing points to sway, to sell;
So when you first encounter that cute skunk
You may think, little girl, that it is swell.
I’m telling you: it is a villain, Nell!


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.

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English: Twinkle Twinkle little star (English)...

(Photo credit: Acerview54 via Wikipedia)

              The Star

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 traveler 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 through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.


One of my granddaughters, now 18 months,
frequently “sings” the song.  She doesn’t get
any words right yet, but she has the melody
down.  She and I have been watching
videos of songs on Youtube together since
she was 9 months old.  She’s got her own
“playlist”.  Her favorites are the Giggle-
bellies, but the first link is to the version
of Twinkle she may like the best. The
Gigglebellies mix in another song with it
and it’s quite beautiful, too.




Here’s a little jewel that rewrites the first
stanza of the poem:


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Princess Tess (2)

Said the Princess, “something”, but the parents didn’t hear.
And thus they asked, “What’s that, our precious little dear?”
So Princess Tess, who’s not yet four, began to spell it out,
“O T R E” and “X Y Z”, “Or do I have to shout?”


photo by melodi2 (Lee) at http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mjYztek/Princess+headwear+1


© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2013.


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A Cradle Song

The angels are stooping
Above your head;
They weary of trooping
With the whimpering dead.

God’s laughing in heaven
To see you so good;
The Shining Seven
Are gay with His mood.

I kiss you and kiss you
My pigeon, my own;
Ah, how I shall miss you
When you have grown.

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(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Come, little leaves,”
Said the wind one day,
“Come over the meadows
With me, and play;
Put on your dresses
Of red and gold;
Summer is gone,
And the days grow cold.”

Soon as the leaves
Heard the wind’s loud call,
Down they came fluttering,
One and all;
Over the meadows
They danced and flew,
Singing the soft
Little songs they knew.

Dancing and flying
The little leaves went;
Winter had called them
And they were content-
Soon fast asleep
In their earthy beds,
The snow laid a soft mantle
Over their heads.


sung here:


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