St Paul's Steeple

Upon Paul's steeple stands a tree
As full of apples as may be,
The little boys of London town
They run with hooks to pull them down;
And then they run from hedge to hedge
Until they come to London Bridge.

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 Dog & The Shadow

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

Ye Frog & Ye Crow

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

The Little Cock-Sparrow

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

The Golden Eggs

Walter Crane, Simple Poetry

English

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The Fir & The Bramble

The Fir-tree looked down on the Bramble.
"Poor thing, only able to scramble
About on the ground."
Just then an axe' sound
Made the Fir wish himself but a Bramble.

Pride Of Place Has Its Disadvantages

Walter Crane

After London

London Bridge is broken down;
    Green is the grass on Ludgate Hill;
I know a farmer in Camden Town
    Killed a brock by Pentonville.

I have heard my grandam tell
    How some thousand years ago
Houses stretched from Camberwell
    Right to Highbury and Bow.

Down by Shadwell's golden meads
    Tall ships' masts would stand as thick
As the pretty tufted reeds
    That the Wapping children pick.

All the kings from end to end
    Of all the world paid tribute then,
And meekly on their knees would bend
    To the King of the Englishmen.

Thinks I while I dig my plot,
    What if your grandam's tales be true?
Thinks I, be they true or not,
    What's the odds to a fool like you?

Thinks I, while I smoke my pipe

J. D. C. Fellow

Oranges & Lemons

Oranges and lemons, says the bells of St. Clemen's;
You owe me five farthings, says the bells of St. Martin's;
When will you pay me, says the bells of Old Bailey;
When I grow rich, says the bells of Shoreditch;
When will that be? says the bells of Stepney;
I do not know, says the great bell of Bow.

Here comes a candle to light you to bed,
And here comes a chopper to chop off your head.

Walter Crane

The Oak & The Reeds

Giant Oak, in his strength & his scorn
Of the winds, by the roots was uptorn:
But slim Reeds at his side,
The fierce gale did outride,
Since, by bending the burden was borne.

Bend, Not Break

Walter Crane

Tapestry Trees.

Oak.

I am the Roof-tree and the Keel;
I bridge the seas for woe and weal.

Fir.

High o'er the lordly oak I stand,
And drive him on from land to land.

Ash.

I heft my brother's iron bane;
I shaft the spear, and build the wain.

Yew.

Dark down the windy dale I grow,
The father of the fateful Bow.

Poplar.

The war-shaft and the milking-bowl
I make, and keep the hay-wain whole.

Olive.

The King I bless; the lamps I trim;
In my warm wave do fishes swim.

Apple-tree.

I bowed my head to Adam's will;
The cups of toiling men I fill.

Vine.

I draw the blood from out the earth;
I store the sun for wi...

William Morris

Trees

Of all the trees in England,
    Her sweet three corners in,
Only the Ash, the bonnie Ash
    Burns fierce while it is green.

Of all the trees in England,
    From sea to sea again,
The Willow loveliest stoops her boughs
    Beneath the driving rain.

Of all the trees in England,
    Past frankincense and myrrh,
There's none for smell, of bloom and smoke,
    Like Lime and Juniper.

Of all the trees in England,
    Oak, Elder, Elm and Thorn,
The Yew alone burns lamps of peace
    For them that lie forlorn.

Walter De La Mare