Стихи на английском для детей. Часть II

Выдалась свободная минутка, и я продолжаю знакомить вас со стихами для детей и о детях на английском языке из чудесного сборника "Favourite Poems of Childhood" (edited by Philip Smith). Если вы читаете сайт нерегулярно, то дам наводку: первая часть заметки находится здесь.

Кстати, заметила интересную тенденцию: в отличие от прозы, стихи запоминаются дочкой гораздо хуже. Я имею в виду даже не форму, а само содержание. Если мы не обсудили стихотворение, не проработали его, не посмеялись/погрустили над ним, то через несколько дней Даша и не вспомнит, что мы вообще его читали. Особенно если дело было ранним утром, перед выходом в школу, как это у нас сейчас бывает.

стихи на английском для детей

Перед вами те стихи из сборника, которые понравились нам более других, которые нас удивили или рассмешили - в общем, те, которые мы с дочкой выделили для себя.

Например, это привлекло меня как педагога. Прекрасное начало разговора о цветах, ведь правда же?

What Is Pink? (by Christina Rossetti)

What is pink? a rose is pink
By a fountain's brink.
What is red? a poppy's red
In its barley bed.
What is blue? the sky is blue
Where the clouds float thro'.
What is white? a swan is white
Sailing in the light.
What is yellow? pears are yellow,
Rich and ripe and mellow.
What is green? the grass is green,
With small flowers between.
What is violet? clouds are violet
In the summer twilight.
What is orange? Why, an orange,
Just an orange!

Стихотворение-шутка, чьё авторство припоминалось поэту, наверное, всю жизнь:

The Purple Cow (by Gelett Burgess)

I never saw a purple cow
I never hope to see one;
But I can tell you, anyhow,
I'd rather see than be one!

Стихотворение о девочке с солнечным характером - подойдёт также и при обсуждении темы "Внешность":

The Rhyme of Dorothy Rose (by Pauline Frances Camp)

Dorothy Rose had a turned-up nose.
Did she worry about it, do you suppose?
Oh, no; but a plan she began to hatch,
To make the rest of her features match.

First of all, she trained her eyes,
Turning them up to the sunny skies.
Look at the mud and the dust? not she!
Nothing but sunshine would Dorothy see.

A flower that droops has become to wilt,
So up went her chin, with a saucy tilt.
An ounce of pluck’s worth a pound of sigh,
And courage comes with a head held high.

Lastly, her lips turned their corners up,
Brimming with smiles like a rosy cup.
Oh, a charming child is Dorothy Rose, -
And it all began with a turned-up nose!

А после этого стиха непременно захочется поиграть с тенями - например, устроить теневой театр. Это особенно актуально сейчас, в преддверии Хэллоуина:

My Shadow (by Robert Louis Stevenson)

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.
He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;
I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Забавное стихотворение о представителе одной из профессий - часовых дел мастере:

Mr. Coggs, Watchmaker (by Edward Verrall Lucas)

A watch will tell the time of day,
Or tell it nearly, anyway,
Excepting when it's overwound,
Or when you drop it on the ground.

If any of our watches stop,
We haste to Mr. Coggs's shop;
For though to scold us he pretends
He's quite among our special friends.

He fits a dice box in his eye,
And takes a long and thoughtful spy,
And prods the wheels, and says: "dear, dear!
More carelessness I greatly fear."

And then he lays the dice box down
And frowns a most prodigious frown;
But if we ask him what's the time,
He'll make his gold repeater chime.

Неожиданное и грустное стихотворение о всем известном персонаже:

Little Boy Blue (by Eugene Field)

The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and stanch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket moulds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
And the soldier was passing fair;
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.

"Now, don't you go till I come," he said,
"And don't you make any noise!"
So, toddling off to his trundle-bed,
He dreamt of the pretty toys;
And, as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue,-
Oh! the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true!

Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face;
And they wonder, as waiting the long years through
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue,
Since he kissed them and put them there.

Стишок-скороговорка, прекрасное дополнение к кухонной тематике - например, во время приготовления блинов:

The Butter Betty Bought
Betty Botta bought some butter;
"But," said she, "this butter's bitter!
If I put it in my batter
It will make my batter bitter.
But a bit o' better butter
Will but make my batter better."
Then she bought a bit o' butter
Better than the bitter butter,
Made her bitter batter better.
So 'twas better Betty Botta
bought a bit o' better butter.

Стих о представителе ещё одной профессии - о парикмахере. Кстати, живость и размер стихотворения заставили меня залезть в интернет и выяснить, что его автор был не только поэтом, но и автором многих столь любимых мною математических игр.

Barbershop (by Martin Gardner)

When you visit the barber
And sit in his chair,
Don’t squirm
Like a worm
While he’s cutting your hair.

Don’t shiver
And quiver
And bounce up and down.
Don’t shuffle
And snuffle
And act like a clown.

Each wiggle
Will jiggle
The blades of the shears.
Those scissors can slip
And snip
Off a tip
Of one of your tender pink ears!

А в стихотворении ниже описан вполне узнаваемый характер, не так ли?

The Peppery Man (by Arthur Macy)

The Peppery Man was cross and thin;
He scolded out and scolded in;
He shook his fist, his hair he tore;
He stamped his feet and slammed the door.

Heigh ho, the Peppery Man,
The rabid, crabbed Peppery Man!
Oh, never since the world began
Was any one like the Peppery Man.

His ugly temper was so sour
He often scolded for an hour;
He gnashed his teeth and stormed and scowled,
He snapped and snarled and yelled and howled.

He wore a fierce and savage frown;
He scolded up and scolded down;
He scolded over field and glen,
And then he scolded back again.

His neighbors, when they heard his roars,
Closed their blinds and locked their doors,
Shut their windows, sought their beds,
Stopped their ears and covered their heads.

He fretted, chaffed, and boiled and fumed;
With fiery rage he was consumed,
And no one knew, when he was vexed,
What in the world would happen next.

Heigh ho, the Peppery Man,
The rabid, crabbed Peppery Man!
Oh, never since the world began
Was any one like the Peppery Man.

Стихотворение ниже знакомо нам всем по песне:

The Star (by Jane Taylor)

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are,
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is set,
And the grass with dew is wet,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Then the traveler in the dark
Thanks you for your tiny spark,
He could not see where to go
If you did not twinkle so.

In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye
Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

А это совершенно новый для меня стих про детей:

The Children’s Hour (by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the night is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day's occupations,
That is known as the Children's Hour.

I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.

From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice, and laughing Allegra,
And Edith with golden hair.

A whisper, and then a silence:
Yet I know by their merry eyes
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!

They climb up into my turret
O'er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine!

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.

And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,
And moulder in dust away!

И снова о детях: два ребёнка - два характера:

Extremes (by James Whitcomb Riley)

A little boy once played so loud
That the thunder, up in a thunder-cloud,
Said, 'Since I can't be heard, why, then
I'll never, never thunder again!'

And a little girl once kept so still
That she heard a fly on the window-sill
Whisper and say to a lady-bird,-
'She's the stillest child I ever heard!'

И завершу подборку стихотворением о любимой детской забаве - качелях:

The Swing (by Robert Louis Stevenson)

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside--

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown--
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

На этом пока всё. До встречи в следующих заметках.