Rewards

Said a great Congregational preacher
To a hen, "You're a beautiful creature."
    And the hen, just for that,
    Laid an egg in his hat,
And thus did the Hen reward Beecher.

Unknown

The identity of this poet is not known. Their works, which are often of significant historical or cultural value, have been attributed to 'Unknown'. This designation is commonly used when the creator of works, ranging from ancient texts to more modern writings, remains anonymous or uncredited. Despite the lack of personal details, the impact and importance of these works endure, offering insight into the eras and cultures from which they originated.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. CCCCLXXXVIII. Love And Matrimony.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCCCLXXVIII. Love And Matrimony.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCCCXXIX. Jingles.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Domestic Relations

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Golden Egg.

        In ancient times we have been told
        A goose did lay an egg of gold,
        She did produce one every day,
        So regular this goose did lay.

        But her stupid foolish master
        Wanted her to lay them faster,
        And he at last the goose did kill,
        Gold grist no more came to his mill.

        But a strange tale we now unfold,
        In California's mines of gold,
        There they keep both hens and chickens,
        'Mong the gravel scratching pickings.

        But hens do find the golden shiner,
        Is too heavy for their dinner,
        For it they cannot well digest,
        As it lies solid in their breast.

        Then they are slain and you behold
        In their craw the shinin...

James McIntyre

Contentment

Once on a time an old red hen
Went strutting 'round with pompous clucks,
For she had little babies ten,
A part of which were tiny ducks.
"'T is very rare that hens," said she,
"Have baby ducks as well as chicks--
But I possess, as you can see,
Of chickens four and ducklings six!"

A season later, this old hen
Appeared, still cackling of her luck,
For, though she boasted babies ten,
Not one among them was a duck!
"'T is well," she murmured, brooding o'er
The little chicks of fleecy down--
"My babies now will stay ashore,
And, consequently, cannot drown!"

The following spring the old red hen
Clucked just as proudly as of yore--
But lo! her babes were ducklings ten,
Instead of chickens, as before!
"'T is better," said the old red he...

Eugene Field

Hen And Chickens. (From The Villager's Verse-Book.)

See, sister, where the chickens trip,
All busy in the morn!
Look how their heads they dip and dip,
To peck the scattered corn!

Dear sister, shall we shut our eyes,
And to the sight be blind,
Nor think of HIM who food supplies
To us and all mankind?

Whether our wants be much or few,
Or fine or coarse our fare,
To Heaven's protecting care is due
The voice of praise and prayer.

William Lisle Bowles

Hen's Nest

Among the orchard weeds, from every search,
Snugly and sure, the old hens nest is made,
Who cackles every morning from her perch
To tell the servant girl new eggs are laid;
Who lays her washing by, and far and near
Goes seeking all about from day to day,
And stung with nettles tramples everywhere;
But still the cackling pullet lays away.
The boy on Sundays goes the stack to pull
In hopes to find her there, but naught is seen,
And takes his hat and thinks to find it full,
Shes laid so long so many might have been.
But naught is found and all is given oer
Till the young brood come chirping to the door.

John Clare

The Hen With The Golden Eggs.

To this lesson in greed,
Pray, little ones, heed:

Each day, we are told,
A most wonderful Hen
Laid an egg made of gold
For this meanest of men.

So greedy was he,
He was not satisfied.
"What is one egg to me?
I want all that' inside!"

He cut off her head,
And began to explore.
But the poor hen was dead.
And could lay eggs no more.

Jean de La Fontaine

Nursery Rhyme. CCCLXXV. Paradoxes.

    My true love lives far from me,
            Perrie, Merrie, Dixie, Dominie.
    Many a rich present he sends to me,
            Petrum, Partrum, Paradise, Temporie,
            Perrie, Merrie, Dixie, Dominie.

    He sent me a goose, without a bone;
    He sent me a cherry, without a stone.
                                                Petrum, & c.

    He sent me a Bible, no man could read;
    He sent me a blanket, without a thread.
                                                Petrum, & c.

    How could there be a goose without a bone?
    How could there be a cherry without a stone?
                                                Petrum, & c.

    How could there be a Bible no man could read?
    How could there be a bla...

Unknown