Archives for posts with tag: children’s poetry

text of children’s picture book
by Margaret Wise Brown

In the great green room
there was a telephone
and a red balloon
and a picture of
the cow jumping over the moon.
There were three little bears
sitting on chairs
and two little kittens
and a pair of mittens
and a little toyhouse
and a young mouse
and a comb and a brush
and a bowl full of mush
and a quiet old lady
who was whispering “hush.”
Good night room
Goodnight moon
Goodnight cow
jumping over the moon
Goodnight light
and the red balloon
Goodnight bears
Goodnight chairs
Goodnight kittens
and goodnight mittens
Goodnight clocks
and goodnight socks
Goodnight little house
and goodnight mouse.
Goodnight comb
and goodnight brush
Goodnight nobody
Goodnight mush
and goodnight to the old lady
whispering “hush.”
Goodnight stars
Goodnight air
Goodnight noises everywhere.

©Harper Collins Publishing, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Find Goodnight Moon at


ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Margaret Wise Brown (1910-1953) wrote hundreds of books and stories during her life, but she is best known for Goodnight Moon (1947) and Runaway Bunny (1942). Following her graduation with a B.A. in English in 1932, Brown worked as a teacher and also studied art. While working at the Bank Street Experimental School in New York City, she started writing books for children. Her first was When the Wind Blew, published in 1937 by Harper & Brothers.

ABOUT GOODNIGHT MOON: Originally published by Harper& Brothers  in 1947, Goodnight Moon slowly became a bestseller. Annual sales grew from about 1,500 copies in 1953 to 20,000 in 1970 — and by 1990, the total number of copies sold was more than 4 million. Based on a 2007 online poll, the National Education Association named the book one of its “Teachers’ Top 100 Books for Children.” It was one of the “Top 100 Picture Books” of all time in a 2012 poll by School Library Journal. (Read more at

EDITOR’S NOTE: A Wall St. Journal article from Sept. 8, 2000 stated that Margaret Wise Brown‘s heir received $5 million in royalties from the time of the author’s death in 1953 to 2000. Let’s see…Goodnight Moon is composed of just 130 words — earning the heir almost $40,000 per word. (And that was 13 years ago….) The Wall St. Journal article (“Runaway Money” by Joshua Prager) details what became of all that money.


by John Lennon

I sat belonely down a tree,
humbled fat and small.
A little lady sing to me
I couldn’t see at all.

I’m looking up and at the sky,
to find such wonderous voice.
Puzzly, puzzle, wonder why,
I hear but I have no choice.

‘Speak up, come forth, you ravel me’,
I potty menthol shout.
‘I know you hiddy by this tree’.
But still she won’t come out.

Such sofly singing lulled me sleep,
an hour or two or so
I wakeny slow and took a peep
and still no lady show.

Then suddy on a little twig
I thought I see a sight,
A tiny little tiny pig,
that sing with all it’s might

 ‘I thought you were a lady’,
I giggle, — well I may,
To my surprise the lady,
got up — and flew away.

Photo: In 1964, John Lennon holds his just-released book IN HIS OWN WRITE while Paul McCartney, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr read over his shoulders.


“I Sat Belonely” appeared in the 1964 release IN HIS OWN WRITE by John Lennon — a collection of poetry, stories, and drawings. Much of the work was inspired by Lewis Carroll‘s nonsensical poetry in ALICE’S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND, particularly “The Jabberwocky” (included below).

by Lewis Carroll

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
      And the mome raths outgrabe.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
      The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
      The frumious Bandersnatch!”

He took his vorpal sword in hand;
      Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
      And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
      The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
      And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through
      The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
      He went galumphing back.

“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
      Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
      He chortled in his joy.

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
      And the mome raths outgrabe.




Poem and Drawing by Shel Silverstein

Underneath the poet tree,

Come and rest awhile with me,

And watch the way the word-web weaves

Between the shady story leaves.

The branches of the poet tree

Reach from the mountains to the sea.

So come and dream, or come and climb —

Just don’t get hit by falling rhymes.