Identifier: poetryforchildre00lamb (find matches)
Title: Poetry for children
Year: 1898 (1890s)
Authors: Lamb, Charles, 1775-1834 Lamb, Mary, 1764-1847 Green, Winifred Gollancz, Israel, Sir, 1864-1930 Evans, Edmund, 1826-1905
Subjects: Children's poetry, English
Publisher: (London) : Published by J.M. Dent & Co.
Contributing Library: New York Public Library
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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Text Appearing Before Image:
HI AFTER the tempest in the sky,How sweet yon rainbow to the eye ICome, my Matilda, now while someFew drops of rain are yet to come,In this honeysuckle bowerSafely shelterd from the shower,We may count the colours oer.Seven there are, there are no more;Each in each so finely blended,Where they begin, or where are ended,The finest eye can scarcely see.A fixed thing it seems to be ;But, while we speak, see how it glidesAway, and now observe it hidesHalf of its perfect arch; now weScarce any part of it can see.What is colour? If I wereA natural philosopher,I would tell you what does makeThis meteor every colour take ; 18
Text Appearing After Image:
20 POETRY FOR CHILDREN But an unlearned eye may view Natures rare sights, and love them too. Whenever I a rainbow see, Each precious tint is dear to me; For every colour find I there Which flowers, which fields, which ladies wear; My favourite green, the grasss hue, And the fine deep violet-blue, And the pretty pale blue-bell, And the rose I love so well; All the wondrous variations Of the tulip, pinks, carnations; This woodbine here, both flower and leaf; Tis a truth thats past belief, That every flower and every tree And every living thing we see, Every face which we espy, Every cheek and every eye, In all their tints, in every shade, Are from the rainbows colours made.

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