Afternoon on a Hill (Monday Poem)

by Edna St Vincent Millay

 

 

I will be the gladdest thing
    Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
    And not pick one.

I will look at cliffs and clouds
    With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
    And the grass rise.

And when lights begin to show
    Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
    And then start down!

 

 from Poetryoutloud.org

 

 

 

 

Words (Monday Poem)

 by Alma Flor Ada

 

 

 

Words

get together to play.

They skip rope, 

hop, jump, and run.

They form rhymes

and mark the rhythm.

Words

sing as they play

and all life

becomes a song.

 

 

 

Las palabras

se reunen para jugar

saltan la cuerda,

brincan y corren,

forman rimas

y marcan el ritmo.

Las palabras

cantan mientras juegan

y la vida

se vuelve cancion.

 

 

from Mama Goose: A Latino Nursery Treasury, Un Tesoro de Rimas Infanatiles

by Alma Flor Ada and F Isabel Campoy

Hyperion, 2004  

 

Young Colts (Monday Poem)

 by Alma Flor Ada and F Isabel Campoy

 

 

(bouncing the child up and down on the knees, as if riding a horse)

 

Of all the little horses

Here and there

My very favorite

Is the chestnut mare.

 

Of the four horses

Given to me

My very favorite

Is the red pony.

 

Of all those horses

For sale today

My very favorite

Just ran away.

 

 

Los Caballitos

(se mece al nino en las rodillas como si trotara en un caballo)

 

De los caballitos

que vienen y van

ninguno me gusta

como el alazan.

 

De cuatro caballos

que me han regalado

a mi el que me gusta

es el colorado.

 

De esos caballos

que vende usted

ninguno me gusta

como es que se fue.

 

 

from Mama Goose: A Latino Nursery Treasury, Un Tesoro de Rimas Infanatiles

by Alma Flor Ada and F Isabel Campoy

Hyperion, 2004  

 

 

Sweet Dreams (Monday Poem)

 by Alma Flor Ada

 

A la Nana, Nanita 

 

A la nana, nanita,

nanita, ea.

A la cunita, madre,

que se menea.

 

Mereces cuna de oro

y no la tengo

pero tienes, tesoro,

todos mis besos.

 

A la nana, nanita,

que ya se duerme,

a la nanita, ea,

ya se durmio.

 

 

 

Sweet Dreams

 

Sweet dreams, little one,

Sweet dreams, my child.

The little cradle rocks

Slow and mild.

 

You deserve a golden cradle

Though I have none to give.

But I'll give you, my treasure,

Kisses as long as I live.

 

Sweet dreams, my child,

You're almost there.

To slumberland go

Without a care.

 

 

 

from Mama Goose: A Latino Nursery Treasury, Un Tesoro de Rimas Infanatiles

by Alma Flor Ada and F Isabel Campoy

Hyperion, 2004