The Fly Away Horse by Eugene Field

Oh, a wonderful horse is the Fly-Away Horse--
Perhaps you have seen him before;
Perhaps, while you slept, his shadow has swept
Through the moonlight that floats on the floor.
For it's only at night, when the stars twinkle bright,
That the Fly-Away Horse, with a neigh
And a pull at his rein and a toss of his mane,
Is up on his heels and away!
The moon in the sky,
As he gallopeth by,
Cries:  "Oh! what a marvellous sight!"
And the stars in dismay
Hide their faces away
In the lap of old Grandmother Night.
It is yonder, out yonder, the Fly-Away horse
Speedeth ever and ever away

Over meadows and lanes, over mountains and plains,

Over streamlets that sing at their play;

And over the sea like a ghost sweepeth he,

While the ships they go sailing below,

And he speedeth so fast that the men at the mast

Adjudge him some portent of woe.

"What ho there!" they cry,

As he flourishes by

With a whisk of his beautiful tail;

And the fish in the sea

Are as scared as can be,

From the nautilus up to the whale!

November by Alice Cary

The leaves are fading and falling,
  The winds are rough and wild,
The birds have ceased their calling,
  But let me tell you, my child,
Though day by day, as it closes,
  Doth darker and colder grow,
The root of the bright red roses
  Will keep alive in the snow.
And when the winter is over,
  The boughs will get new leaves,
The quail will come back to the clover,
  And the swallow back to the eaves.
The robin will wear on his bosom
  A vest that is bright and new,
And the loveliest wayside blossoms
  Will shine with the sun and dew.
The leaves today are whirling,

  The brooks are all dry and dumb,
But let me tell you, my darling,
  The spring will be sure to come.
There must be rough, cold weather,
  And winds and rains so wild;
Not all good things together
  Come to us here, my child.
So, when some dear joy loses
  Its beauteous summer glow
Think how the roots of the roses
  Are kept alive in the snow.

The Brown Thrush by Lucy Larcom

"There's a merry brown thrush sitting up in the tree;
He's singing to me!  He's singing to me!"
And what does he say, little girl, little boy?
"Oh, the world's running over with joy!
      Don't you hear?  Don't you see?
      Hush!  Look!  In my tree,
I'm as happy as happy can be!"
And the brown thrush keeps singing, "A nest do you see,
And five eggs hid by me in the juniper tree?
Don't meddle!  Don't touch! little girl, little boy,
Or the world will lose some of its joy!
      Now I'm glad!  Now I'm free!
      And I always shall be,
If you never bring sorrow to me."
So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree,

To you and to me, to you and to me;
And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy,
"Oh, the world's running over with joy!
      But long it won't be,
      Don't you know?  Don't you see?
Unless we are as good as can be."

The Horseman by Walter De La Mare

Charm's birthday party

We weren't overly impressed with any of Walter's poems.  Most were alright to read, but none presented itself as a great candidate for memorization.  Claire picked this one because of the subject matter.

The Horseman

I heard a horseman
Ride over the hill;
The moon shone clear,
The night was still;
His helm was silver,
And pale was he;
And the horse he rode
Was of ivory.