POEMS

BIRD TALK 
By Aileen Fisher 
‘Think…’ said the Robin, 
‘Think…’ said the Jay,
sitting in the garden, 
talking one day. 
‘Think about people -
the way they grow: 
they don’t have feathers 
at all, you know. 
They don’t eat beetles, 
they don’t grow wings, 
they don’t like sitting 
on wires and things.’ 
‘Think!’ said the Robin. 
‘Think!’ said the Jay. 
‘Aren’t people funny 
to be that way?’ 

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What are little boys made of, made of?
What are little boys
made of?
Frogs and snails,
And puppy-dogs' tails,
That's what little boys are made of.
What are little girls made of, made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice
And all things nice,
That's what little girls are made of.
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Solomon Grundy,
Born on Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday,
Buried on Sunday;
This is the end of
Solomon Grundy.
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Pussy-cat, pussy-cat,
Where have you been?
I've been to London
To look at the Queen.
Pussy-cat, pussy-cat,
What did you there?
I frightened a little mouse
Under her chair.
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If bees stay at home,
Rain will soon come;
If they fly away,
Fine will be the day.
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Evening red and morning grey,
Send the traveller on his way;
Evening grey and morning red,
Bring the rain upon his head.
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