The Story Of Flying Robert

When the rain comes tumbling down
In the country or the town,
All good little girls and boys
Stay at home and mind their toys.
Robert thought, "No, when it pours,
It is better out of doors."
Rain it did, and in a minute
Bob was in it.
Here you see him, silly fellow,
Underneath his red umbrella.

What a wind! oh! how it whistles
Through the trees and flowers and thistles!
It has caught his red umbrella:
Now look at him, silly fellow--
Up he flies
To the skies.
No one heard his screams and cries;
Through the clouds the rude wind bore him,
And his hat flew on before him.

Soon they got to such a height,
They were nearly out of sight.
And the hat went up so high,
That it nearly touched the sky.
No one ever yet could tell
Where they stopped, or where they fell:
Only this one thing is plain,
Bob was never seen again!

Heinrich Hoffmann

Heinrich Hoffmann was a German psychiatrist, who also wrote some short works including poetry, for example the well-known children's book "Struwwelpeter". He was born on June 13, 1809, and died on September 20, 1894. Hoffmann wrote under the pseudonym Reimerich Kinderlieb. He became a medical doctor in 1835 and worked as a physician in various cities before settling in Frankfurt. His book "Struwwelpeter," published in 1845, became famous for its moral tales and vivid illustrations.

Heinrich Hoffmann

Merry Stories and Funny Pictures

Heinrich Hoffmann, Simple Poetry

The Dreadful Story Of Harriet And The Matches

Heinrich Hoffmann, Simple Poetry

Envious Minnie

Heinrich Hoffmann, Simple Poetry

The Story Of Fidgety Philip

Heinrich Hoffmann, 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.

The Story Of Johnny Head-In-Air

As he trudged along to school,
It was always Johnny's rule
To be looking at the sky
And the clouds that floated by;
But what just before him lay,
In his way,
Johnny never thought about;
So that every one cried out
"Look at little Johnny there,
Little Johnny Head-In-Air!"

Running just in Johnny's way
Came a little dog one day;
Johnny's eyes were still astray
Up on high,
In the sky;
And he never heard them cry
"Johnny, mind, the dog is nigh!"
Bump!
Dump!
Down they fell, with such a thump,
Dog and Johnny in a lump!

Once, with head as high as ever,
Johnny walked beside the river.
Johnny watched the swallows trying
Which was cleverest at flying.
Oh! what fun!
Johnny watched the bright round sun
Goin...

Heinrich Hoffmann

Robin, The Sea-Boy

Ho, ruddy-cheeked boys and curly maids,
Who deftly ply your pails and spades,
All you who sturdily take your stand
On your pebble-buttressed forts of sand,
    And thence defy
    With a fearless eye
And a burst of rollicking high-pitched laughter
The stealthy trickling waves that lap you
And the crested breakers that tumble after
To souse and batter you, sting and sap you -
All you roll-about rackety little folk,
Down-again, up-again, not-a-bit brittle folk,
    Attend, attend,
    And let each girl and boy
    Join in a loud "Ahoy!"
For, lo, he comes, your tricksy little friend,
From the clear caverns of his crystal home
Beyond the tossing ridges of the foam:
Planner of sandy romps and wet delights,
Robin the Sea-boy, prince of ocean-sprites,<...

R. C. Lehmann

Our Singing Strength

It snowed in spring on earth so dry and warm
The flakes could find no landing place to form.
Hordes spent themselves to make it wet and cold,
And still they failed of any lasting hold.
They made no white impression on the black.
They disappeared as if earth sent them back.
Not till from separate flakes they changed at night
To almost strips and tapes of ragged white
Did grass and garden ground confess it snowed,
And all go back to winter but the road.
Next day the scene was piled and puffed and dead.
The grass lay flattened under one great tread.
Borne down until the end almost took root,
The rangey bough anticipated fruit
With snowball cupped in every opening bud.
The road alone maintained itself in mud,
Whatever its secret was of greater heat
From inwar...

Robert Lee Frost

The Thatch

Out alone in the winter rain,
Intent on giving and taking pain.
But never was I far out of sight
Of a certain upper-window light.
The light was what it was all about:
I would not go in till the light went out;
It would not go out till I came in.
Well, we should wee which one would win,
We should see which one would be first to yield.
The world was black invisible field.
The rain by rights was snow for cold.
The wind was another layer of mold.
But the strangest thing: in the thick old thatch,
Where summer birds had been given hatch,
had fed in chorus, and lived to fledge,
Some still were living in hermitage.
And as I passed along the eaves,
So low I brushed the straw with my sleeves,
I flushed birds out of hole after hole,
Into the darkness. It g...

Robert Lee Frost

The Robin

When up aloft
I fly and fly,
I see in pools
The shining sky,
And a happy bird
Am I, am I!

When I descend
Towards their brink
I stand, and look,
And stoop, and drink,
And bathe my wings,
And chink and prink.

When winter frost
Makes earth as steel
I search and search
But find no meal,
And most unhappy
Then I feel.

But when it lasts,
And snows still fall,
I get to feel
No grief at all,
For I turn to a cold stiff
Feathery ball!

Thomas Hardy

The Search

The rain falls long, and the rain falls light,
    With a desolate drip -drop, sad to hear.
But never a star shines through the night
    As I sit afar, from the world anear.

Down in the parlour some one sings;
    The children laugh in the nursery hall;
But my heart like a bird has spread its wings,
    And leaves the music, and mirth, and all.

Out in the rain and the eerie night,
    Into the darkness it speeds away.
Ah me! ah me! 'tis a gruesome flight,
    Seeking for you till the dawn of day.

If it only knew which way to go;
    Where you wander, or where you lie.
To valleys of sunshine, or hills of snow,
    Thither at once my heart would fly.

Fly and follow wherever you led,
    Over the desert and over the wave;
Or if ...

Ella Wheeler Wilcox