When I go fishing down at the brook, (Hold fishing pole over shoulder) I put a wiggly worm on my hook. (Put wiggly worm on hook) I toss it into water, (Swing pole into water) And hope with all my might, A little fish will swim on by. (Left hand-fingers together) And take a great big bite. (Move thumb away from fingers -- then snap them back together)
A Dad is a person who is loving and kind, And often he knows what you have on your mind. He's someone who listens, suggests, and defends. A dad can be one of your very best friends! He's proud of your triumphs, but when things go wrong, A dad can be patient and helpful and strong In all that you do, a dad's love plays a part. There's always a place for him deep in your heart. And each year that passes, you're even more glad, More grateful and proud just to call him your dad! Thank you, Dad... for listening and caring, for giving and sharing, but, especially, for just being you! Happy Father's Day.
A counting fingerplay especially useful in the spring and summer. I liked this one because it was an attention getter. I felt it related to summer because the pea was growing and it made me think of my grandmother's garden.
Five fat peas in a pea pod pressed (children hold hand in a fist) One grew, two grew, so did all the rest. (put thumb and fingers up one by one) They grew and grew (raise hand in the air very slowly) And did not stop, Until one day The pod went POP! (children clap hands together)
In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people's feet Still going past me in the street. And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day?
Keeping safe in summer Means taking special care When you’re near the water And when your feet are bare. Sun-block will protect your skin From the burning sun. But while you’re being careful, Don’t forget to have some fun! - Sharon Siegelman
In the month of June I composed a melodic tune Ahead of time before the clocks struck noon Later at night I waited to sing it out in full moon
June is the smell of sweet fresh roses A beautiful rosy sixth month it exposes And with the sweetness of each day The sky clouds smile brightful and gay
Good Afternoon, My little summer butterflies In June we can play where yellow meadows lie We can observe little rivers flow into lagoons And the mellifluent wildlife retreat into cocoons
And if love where to blossom it will do so quite soon Because there is something about the month of June As the longest daylight hours a year balloon All marriage hopes are not left marooned
June is a beautiful month to sing And listen to loud wedding bells ring In this long awaited summer month The mood of happiness is all June fronts
A boy and his dad on a fishing trip- There is a glorious fellowship! Father and son and the open sky, And the white clouds lazily drifting by, And the laughing stream as it runs along With the clicking reel like a martial song, And the father teaching the youngster gay How to land a fish in the sportsman's way.
I fancy I hear them talking there In an open boat, and speech is fair; And the boy is learning the ways of men From the finest man in his youthful ken. Kings, to youngster, cannot compare With the gentle father who's with him there. And the greatest mind of the human race Not for one minute could take his place.
Which is happier, man or boy? The soul of the father is steeped in joy, For he's finding out, to his heart's delight, That his son is fit for the future fight. He is learning the glorious depths of him. And the thoughts he thinks and his every whim, And he shall discover, when night comes on, How close he has grown to his little son.
Oh, I envy them, as I see them there Under the sky in the open air, For out of the the old, old long-ago Come the summer days that I used to know, When I learned life's truth from my father's lips As I shared the joy of his fishing trips- A boy and his dad on a fishing trip- Builders of life's companionship!
"In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle-light. In summer quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see The birds still hopping on the tree, Or hear the grown-up people's feet Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you, When all the sky is clear and blue, And I should like so much to play, To have to go to bed by day?" - Robert Louis Stevenson, Bed in Summer
For stately trees in rich array, For sunlight all the happy day, For blossoms radiant and rare, For skies when daylight closes, For joyous, clear, outpouring song From birds that all the green wood throng, For all things young, and bright, and fair, We praise thee, Month of Roses!
For blue, blue skies of summer calm, For fragrant odors breathing balm, For quiet, cooling shades where oft The weary head reposes, For brooklets babbling thro' the fields Where Earth her choicest treasures yields, For all things tender, sweet and soft, We love thee, Month of Roses!
Did You Ever See A Bubble? Tune: “Did You Ever See A Lassie?”
Did you ever see a bubble, A bubble, a bubble? Did you ever see a bubble That floated so high? It reached the tree. It’s higher than me. Did you ever see a bubble That floated so high?
A Day in June From the vision of Sir Launfal James Russell Lowell
And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, And over if softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers.
How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain!
How it clatters along the roofs, Like the tramp of hoofs! How it gushes and struggles out From the throat of the overflowing spout!
Across the window pane It pours and pours; And swift and wide, With a muddy tide, Like a river down the gutter roars The rain, the welcome rain!
* * * *
In the country, on every side, Where far and wide, Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide, Stretches the plain, To the dry grass and the drier grain How welcome is the rain!
For stately trees in rich array, For sunlight all the happy day, For blossoms radiant and rare, For skies when daylight closes, For joyous, clear, outpouring song From birds that all the green wood throng, For all things young, and bright, and fair, We praise thee, Month of Roses!
For blue, blue skies of summer calm, For fragrant odors breathing balm, For quiet, cooling shades where oft The weary head reposes, For brooklets babbling thro' the fields Where Earth her choicest treasures yields, For all things tender, sweet and soft, We love thee, Month of Roses!
In the morning, very early, That's the time I love to go Barefoot where the fern grows curly And the grass is cool between each toe, On a summer morning-O! On a summer morning!
That is when the birds go by Up the sunny slopes of air, And each rose has a butterfly Or a golden bee to wear; And I am glad in every toe- Such a summer morning-O! Such a summer morning!
In my head I hear a humming: Summer, summer, summer's coming. Soon we're going on a vacation But there is a complication: Day by day the problem's growing- We don't know yet where we are going!
Mother likes the country best; That's so she can read and rest. Dad thinks resting is a bore; He's for fishing at the shore. Sailing is my brother's pick; Sailing makes my sister sick; She says swimming's much more cool, Swimming in a swimming pool. As for me, why, I don't care, I'd be happy anywhere!
In my head I hear a humming: Summer, summer, summer's coming. Soon we're going on vacation But we have a complication: Day by day the problem's growing- Where oh where will we be going?
“The Schoolboy”- A Summer Poem by William Blake The proper joys of summer.
I love to rise in a summer morn, When the birds sing on every tree; The distant huntsman winds his horn, And the skylark sings with me: O what sweet company!
But to go to school in a summer morn, — O it drives all joy away! Under a cruel eye outworn, The little ones spend the day In sighing and dismay.
Ah then at times I drooping sit, And spend many an anxious hour; Nor in my book can I take delight, Nor sit in learning’s bower, Worn through with the dreary shower.
How can the bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing? How can a child, when fears annoy, But droop his tender wing, And forget his youthful spring!
O father and mother if buds are nipped, And blossoms blown away; And if the tender plants are stripped Of their joy in the springing day, By sorrow and care’s dismay, —
How shall the summer arise in joy, Or the summer fruits appear? Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy, Or bless the mellowing year, When the blasts of winter appear?
How beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain!
How it clatters along the roofs, Like the tramp of hoofs! How it gushes and struggles out From the throat of the overflowing spout!
Across the window pane It pours and pours; And swift and wide, With a muddy tide, Like a river down the gutter roars The rain, the welcome rain!
* * * *
In the country, on every side, Where far and wide, Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide, Stretches the plain, To the dry grass and the drier grain How welcome is the rain!
In the summer, when days are hot (wipe forehead) I like to find a shady spot (sit) And hardly move a single bit (stay still) And sit, and sit, and sit, then...ZIP (jump up)
Summer is when the sun comes out Summer is when the dogs pout Summer is when crickets on Summer is when you get your hair cut at the salon
Summer is when kids are out to play Summer is when adults are in the office earning there pay Summer is when the sweat drips down your face Summer is when you’re in a hot place Summer is for everyone
Going Fishing
ReplyDeleteOriginal Author Unknown
When I go fishing down at the brook,
(Hold fishing pole over shoulder)
I put a wiggly worm on my hook.
(Put wiggly worm on hook)
I toss it into water,
(Swing pole into water)
And hope with all my might,
A little fish will swim on by.
(Left hand-fingers together)
And take a great big bite.
(Move thumb away from fingers -- then snap them back together)
A Father's Day Poem
ReplyDeleteby Anonymous
A Dad is a person who is loving and kind,
And often he knows what you have on your mind.
He's someone who listens, suggests, and defends.
A dad can be one of your very best friends!
He's proud of your triumphs,
but when things go wrong,
A dad can be patient and helpful and strong
In all that you do, a dad's love plays a part.
There's always a place for him deep in your heart.
And each year that passes, you're even more glad,
More grateful and proud just to call him your dad!
Thank you, Dad...
for listening and caring, for giving and sharing,
but, especially, for just being you!
Happy Father's Day.
Summers Glory Gone by David Harris
ReplyDeleteFlowers drooping heads
Petals limp
Summers glory gone
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteFive Fat Peas
ReplyDeleteAuthor Unknown
A counting fingerplay especially
useful in the spring and summer. I liked this one because it was an attention getter. I felt it related to summer because the pea was growing and it made me think of my grandmother's garden.
Five fat peas in a pea pod pressed
(children hold hand in a fist)
One grew, two grew, so did all the rest.
(put thumb and fingers up one by one)
They grew and grew
(raise hand in the air very slowly)
And did not stop,
Until one day
The pod went POP!
(children clap hands together)
Bed in Summer
ReplyDeleteby Robert Louis Stevenson
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
Jason Radel
ReplyDeleteSummer Safety
Keeping safe in summer
Means taking special care
When you’re near the water
And when your feet are bare.
Sun-block will protect your skin
From the burning sun.
But while you’re being careful,
Don’t forget to have some fun!
- Sharon Siegelman
The month of June
ReplyDeleteIn the month of June
I composed a melodic tune
Ahead of time before the clocks struck noon
Later at night I waited to sing it out in full moon
June is the smell of sweet fresh roses
A beautiful rosy sixth month it exposes
And with the sweetness of each day
The sky clouds smile brightful and gay
Good Afternoon, My little summer butterflies
In June we can play where yellow meadows lie
We can observe little rivers flow into lagoons
And the mellifluent wildlife retreat into cocoons
And if love where to blossom it will do so quite soon
Because there is something about the month of June
As the longest daylight hours a year balloon
All marriage hopes are not left marooned
June is a beautiful month to sing
And listen to loud wedding bells ring
In this long awaited summer month
The mood of happiness is all June fronts
Copyright 2009 - Sylvia Chidi
Posted by Rebecca Selfridge
A Boy and His Dad
ReplyDeleteby Edgar A. Guest
A boy and his dad on a fishing trip-
There is a glorious fellowship!
Father and son and the open sky,
And the white clouds lazily drifting by,
And the laughing stream as it runs along
With the clicking reel like a martial song,
And the father teaching the youngster gay
How to land a fish in the sportsman's way.
I fancy I hear them talking there
In an open boat, and speech is fair;
And the boy is learning the ways of men
From the finest man in his youthful ken.
Kings, to youngster, cannot compare
With the gentle father who's with him there.
And the greatest mind of the human race
Not for one minute could take his place.
Which is happier, man or boy?
The soul of the father is steeped in joy,
For he's finding out, to his heart's delight,
That his son is fit for the future fight.
He is learning the glorious depths of him.
And the thoughts he thinks and his every whim,
And he shall discover, when night comes on,
How close he has grown to his little son.
Oh, I envy them, as I see them there
Under the sky in the open air,
For out of the the old, old long-ago
Come the summer days that I used to know,
When I learned life's truth from my father's lips
As I shared the joy of his fishing trips-
A boy and his dad on a fishing trip-
Builders of life's companionship!
"In winter I get up at night
ReplyDeleteAnd dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?"
- Robert Louis Stevenson, Bed in Summer
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteJune
ReplyDeleteby Elaine Goodale
For stately trees in rich array,
For sunlight all the happy day,
For blossoms radiant and rare,
For skies when daylight closes,
For joyous, clear, outpouring song
From birds that all the green wood throng,
For all things young, and bright, and fair,
We praise thee, Month of Roses!
For blue, blue skies of summer calm,
For fragrant odors breathing balm,
For quiet, cooling shades where oft
The weary head reposes,
For brooklets babbling thro' the fields
Where Earth her choicest treasures yields,
For all things tender, sweet and soft,
We love thee, Month of Roses!
Terra Mangan
ReplyDeleteDid You Ever See A Bubble?
Tune: “Did You Ever See A Lassie?”
Did you ever see a bubble,
A bubble, a bubble?
Did you ever see a bubble
That floated so high?
It reached the tree.
It’s higher than me.
Did you ever see a bubble
That floated so high?
By Jean Warren
A Day in June
ReplyDeleteFrom the vision of Sir Launfal
James Russell Lowell
And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,
And over if softly her warm ear lays;
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;
Every clod feels a stir of might,
An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And, groping blindly above it for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers.
Bed in Summer
ReplyDeleteby Robert Louis Stevenson
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
Rain in Summer
ReplyDeleteby Henry W. Longfellow
How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!
How it clatters along the roofs,
Like the tramp of hoofs!
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!
Across the window pane
It pours and pours;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!
* * * *
In the country, on every side,
Where far and wide,
Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide,
Stretches the plain,
To the dry grass and the drier grain
How welcome is the rain!
JUNE
ReplyDeleteFor stately trees in rich array,
For sunlight all the happy day,
For blossoms radiant and rare,
For skies when daylight closes,
For joyous, clear, outpouring song
From birds that all the green wood throng,
For all things young, and bright, and fair,
We praise thee, Month of Roses!
For blue, blue skies of summer calm,
For fragrant odors breathing balm,
For quiet, cooling shades where oft
The weary head reposes,
For brooklets babbling thro' the fields
Where Earth her choicest treasures yields,
For all things tender, sweet and soft,
We love thee, Month of Roses!
Barefoot Days
ReplyDeleteIn the morning, very early,
That's the time I love to go
Barefoot where the fern grows curly
And the grass is cool between each toe,
On a summer morning-O!
On a summer morning!
That is when the birds go by
Up the sunny slopes of air,
And each rose has a butterfly
Or a golden bee to wear;
And I am glad in every toe-
Such a summer morning-O!
Such a summer morning!
By Rachel Field
Daze of Summer
ReplyDeleteSweat on a glass of cool lemonade
Lazy beach days
Dancing in the rain
and stomping in puddles.
Campfires
Roasted marshmallows
Flash light tag
& creepy June bugs.
Paddeling down a stream
peacefully trout fishing
Eating ice cream
Ending the day with sweet
summer dreams.
by Cassie Mae as a 12 year old.
Untitled by Emily Dickinson
ReplyDeleteThe bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly,
The pretty people in the woods
Receive me cordially.
The brooks laugh louder when I come,
The breezes madder play.
Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists?
Wherefore, O summer's day?
Vacation
ReplyDeleteby Mary Ann Hoberman
In my head I hear a humming:
Summer, summer, summer's coming.
Soon we're going on a vacation
But there is a complication:
Day by day the problem's growing-
We don't know yet where we are going!
Mother likes the country best;
That's so she can read and rest.
Dad thinks resting is a bore;
He's for fishing at the shore.
Sailing is my brother's pick;
Sailing makes my sister sick;
She says swimming's much more cool,
Swimming in a swimming pool.
As for me, why, I don't care,
I'd be happy anywhere!
In my head I hear a humming:
Summer, summer, summer's coming.
Soon we're going on vacation
But we have a complication:
Day by day the problem's growing-
Where oh where will we be going?
“The Schoolboy”- A Summer Poem by William Blake
ReplyDeleteThe proper joys of summer.
I love to rise in a summer morn,
When the birds sing on every tree;
The distant huntsman winds his horn,
And the skylark sings with me:
O what sweet company!
But to go to school in a summer morn, —
O it drives all joy away!
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.
Ah then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour;
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning’s bower,
Worn through with the dreary shower.
How can the bird that is born for joy
Sit in a cage and sing?
How can a child, when fears annoy,
But droop his tender wing,
And forget his youthful spring!
O father and mother if buds are nipped,
And blossoms blown away;
And if the tender plants are stripped
Of their joy in the springing day,
By sorrow and care’s dismay, —
How shall the summer arise in joy,
Or the summer fruits appear?
Or how shall we gather what griefs destroy,
Or bless the mellowing year,
When the blasts of winter appear?
How beautiful is the rain!
ReplyDeleteAfter the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!
How it clatters along the roofs,
Like the tramp of hoofs!
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!
Across the window pane
It pours and pours;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!
* * * *
In the country, on every side,
Where far and wide,
Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide,
Stretches the plain,
To the dry grass and the drier grain
How welcome is the rain!
Summer Days
ReplyDeleteIn the summer, when days are hot (wipe forehead)
I like to find a shady spot (sit)
And hardly move a single bit (stay still)
And sit, and sit, and sit, then...ZIP (jump up)
Summer is when the sun comes out
ReplyDeleteSummer is when the dogs pout
Summer is when crickets on
Summer is when you get your hair cut at the salon
Summer is when kids are out to play
Summer is when adults are in the office earning there pay
Summer is when the sweat drips down your face
Summer is when you’re in a hot place
Summer is for everyone
freddy roach