Dirty Face BY SHEL SILVERSTEIN. Where did you get such a dirty face, My darling dirty faced child?

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Melvyn Bradley
5 years ago
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1 Dirty Face BY SHEL SILVERSTEIN Where did you get such a dirty face, My darling dirty faced child? I got it from crawling along in the dirt And biting two buttons off Jeremy s shirt. I got it from chewing the roots of a rose And digging for clams in the yard with my nose. I got it from peeking into a dark cave And painting myself like a Navajo brave. I got it from playing with coal in the bin And signing my name in cement with my chin. I got it from rolling around on the rug And giving the horrible dog a big hug. I got it from finding a lost silver mine And eating sweet blackberries right off the vine. I got it from ice cream and wrestling and tears And from having more fun than you ve had in years.

2 Harriet Tubman by Eloise Greenfield Harriet Tubman didn't take no stuff Wasn't scared of nothing neither Didn't come in this world to be no slave And wasn't going to stay one either "Farewell!" she sang to her friends one night She was mighty sad to leave 'em But she ran away that dark, hot night Ran looking for her freedom She ran to the woods and she ran through the woods With the slave catcher right behind her And she kept on going till she got to the North Where those mean men couldn't find her Nineteen times she went back South To get three hundred others She ran for her freedom nineteen times To save black sisters and brothers Harriet Tubman didn't take no stuff Wasn't scared of nothing neither Didn't come in this world to be no slave And didn't stay one either And didn't stay one either

3 Concrete by Karla Kuskin If you stood with your feet in the earth Up to your ankles in grass And your arms had leaves running over them And every once in awhile one of your leafy fingers Was nudged by a bird flying past, If the skin that covers you from top to tip Wasn't skin at all, but bark And you never moved your feet from their place In the earth But stood rooted in one spot come Rain Wind Snow Sleet Thaw Spring Summer Winter Fall Blight Bug Day Dark Then you would be me: A tree.

4 The Yak by Hilaire Belloc ( ) As a friend to the children commend me the Yak. You will find it exactly the thing: It will carry and fetch, you can ride on its back, Or lead it about with a string. The tartar who dwells on the plains of Tibet (A desolate region of snow) Has for centuries made it a nursery pet, And surely the Tartar should know! Then tell your papa where the yak can be got, And if he is awfully rich He will buy you the creature or else he will, (I can not be positive which.)

5 Fog by Carl Sandburg The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.

6 I'm Nobody! Who Are You? by Emily Dickinson I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you Nobody Too? Then there's a pair of us! Don't tell! they'd advertise you know! How dreary to be Somebody! How public like a Frog To tell one's name the livelong June To an admiring Bog!

7 To You by Walt Whitman STRANGER! if you, passing, meet me, and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you?

8 Dirty Face BY SHEL SILVERSTEIN Where did you get such a dirty face, My darling dirty faced child? I got it from crawling along in the dirt And biting two buttons off Jeremy s shirt. I got it from chewing the roots of a rose And digging for clams in the yard with my nose. I got it from peeking into a dark cave And painting myself like a Navajo brave. I got it from playing with coal in the bin And signing my name in cement with my chin. I got it from rolling around on the rug And giving the horrible dog a big hug. I got it from finding a lost silver mine And eating sweet blackberries right off the vine. I got it from ice cream and wrestling and tears And from having more fun than you ve had in years. Harriet Tubman by Eloise Greenfield Harriet Tubman didn't take no stuff Wasn't scared of nothing neither Didn't come in this world to be no slave And wasn't going to stay one either "Farewell!" she sang to her friends one night She was mighty sad to leave 'em But she ran away that dark, hot night Ran looking for her freedom She ran to the woods and she ran through the woods With the slave catcher right behind her And she kept on going till she got to the North Where those mean men couldn't find her Nineteen times she went back South To get three hundred others She ran for her freedom nineteen times To save black sisters and brothers Harriet Tubman didn't take no stuff Wasn't scared of nothing neither Didn't come in this world to be no slave And didn't stay one either And didn't stay one either

9 Concrete by Karla Kuskin If you stood with your feet in the earth Up to your ankles in grass And your arms had leaves running over them And every once in awhile one of your leafy fingers Was nudged by a bird flying past, If the skin that covers you from top to tip Wasn't skin at all, but bark And you never moved your feet from their place In the earth But stood rooted in one spot come Rain Wind Snow Sleet Thaw Spring Summer Winter Fall Blight Bug Day Dark Then you would be me: A tree. The Yak by Hilaire Belloc ( ) As a friend to the children commend me the Yak. You will find it exactly the thing: It will carry and fetch, you can ride on its back, Or lead it about with a string. The tartar who dwells on the plains of Tibet (A desolate region of snow) Has for centuries made it a nursery pet, And surely the Tartar should know! Then tell your papa where the yak can be got, And if he is awfully rich He will buy you the creature or else he will, (I can not be positive which.)

10 Fog by Carl Sandburg The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on. I'm Nobody! Who Are You? by Emily Dickinson I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you Nobody Too? Then there's a pair of us! Don't tell! they'd advertise you know! How dreary to be Somebody! How public like a Frog To tell one's name the livelong June To an admiring Bog! To You by Walt Whitman STRANGER! if you, passing, meet me, and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you?

The Last Poems of Summer. By The Rev. Sharon Gracen. August 31, 2014

The Last Poems of Summer. By The Rev. Sharon Gracen. August 31, 2014 The Last Poems of Summer By The Rev. Sharon Gracen August 31, 2014 Four years ago, on this last Sunday of August, we began our journey in ministry together. Peter and I had left our home in California