Girls And Boys

1.
Girls and boys come out to play,
The moon doth shine as bright as day;
Leave your supper, and leave your sleep;
Come to your playfellows in the street;

2.
Come with a whoop, and come with a call.
Come with a good will or not at all.
Up the ladder and down the wall,
A penny loaf will serve you all.

Walter Crane

Walter Crane was an English artist and book illustrator, considered to be one of the most prolific and influential children's book creators of his generation. Born on August 15, 1845, and passing away on March 14, 1915, he was part of the Arts and Crafts movement and is known for his innovative contributions to children's literature. His work often combined art and poetry, aiming to educate and delight young readers.

Walter Crane

The Fir & The Bramble

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

Billy Pringle

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

The Golden Eggs

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

Looby Light

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

English

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Nursery Rhyme. DCXVII. Relics.

    Girls and boys, come out to play,
    The moon doth shine as bright as day;
    Leave your supper, and leave your sleep,
    And come with your playfellows into the street.
    Come with a whoop, come with a call,
    Come with a good will or not at all.
    Up the ladder and down the wall,
    A halfpenny roll will serve us all.
    You find milk, and I'll find flour,
    And we'll have a pudding in half an hour.

Unknown

Hi-Spy

Strange that the city thoroughfare,
Noisy and bustling all the day,
Should with the night renounce its care,
And lend itself to children's play!

Oh, girls are girls, and boys are boys,
And have been so since Abel's birth,
And shall be so till dolls and toys
Are with the children swept from earth.

The self-same sport that crowns the day
Of many a Syrian shepherd's son,
Beguiles the little lads at play
By night in stately Babylon.

I hear their voices in the street,
Yet 't is so different now from then!
Come, brother! from your winding-sheet,
And let us two be boys again!

Eugene Field

An Alphabet Of Old Friends.

A

A carrion crow sat on an oak,
Watching a tailor shape his cloak.
"Wife, bring me my old bent bow,
That I may shoot yon carrion crow."
The tailor he shot and missed his mark,
And shot his own sow quite through the heart.
"Wife, wife, bring brandy in a spoon,
For our old sow is in a swoon."

B

Ba, ba, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, marry, have I,
Three bags full.

One for my master,
One for my dame,
But none for the little boy
That cries in the lane.

C

Hen.    Cock, cock, I have la-a-ayed!
Cock. Hen, hen, that's well sa-a-ayed!
Hen.    Although I have to go bare-footed every day-a-ay!
Cock. (Con spirito.) Sell your eggs and buy shoes!
                 ...

Walter Crane

An Alphabet Of Old Friends

A

A carrion crow sat on an oak,
Watching a tailor shape his cloak.
"Wife, bring me my old bent bow,
That I may shoot yon carrion crow."
The tailor he shot and missed his mark,
And shot his own sow quite through the heart.
"Wife, wife, bring brandy in a spoon,
For our old sow is in a swoon."


B

Ba, ba, black sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, marry, have I,
Three bags full.
One for my master,
One for my dame,
But none for the little boy
That cries in the lane.


C

Hen.    Cock, cock, I have la-a-ayed!
Cock. Hen, hen, that's well sa-a-ayed!
Hen.    Although I have to go bare-footed every day-a-ay!
Cock. (Con spirito.) Sell your eggs and buy shoes!
Sell your e...

Walter Crane

Little Man & Maid

1

There was a little man
And he woo'd a little maid,
And he said, "Little maid, will you wed, wed, wed?
I have little more to say
Than 'will you, yea or nay?'
For least said is soonest mended-ded-ded-ded."

2

The little maid replied,
(Some say a little sighed,)
"But what shall we have to eat, eat, eat?
"Will the love that you're rich in
"Make a fire in the kitchen?
"Or the little god of love turn the spit, spit, spit?"

Walter Crane

Ad Amicos

"Dumque virent genua
Et decet, obducta solvatur fonte senectus."

The muse of boyhood's fervid hour
Grows tame as skies get chill and hazy;
Where once she sought a passion-flower,
She only hopes to find a daisy.
Well, who the changing world bewails?
Who asks to have it stay unaltered?
Shall grown-up kittens chase their tails?
Shall colts be never shod or haltered?

Are we "The Boys" that used to make
The tables ring with noisy follies?
Whose deep-lunged laughter oft would shake
The ceiling with its thunder-volleys?
Are we the youths with lips unshorn,
At beauty's feet unwrinkled suitors,
Whose memories reach tradition's morn, -
The days of prehistoric tutors?

"The Boys" we knew, - but who are these
Whose heads might serve for Plu...

Oliver Wendell Holmes