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Poems Every Child Should Know

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<h3>The "Three Bells" of Glasgow.</h3> <div class="pre_poem">"The Three Bells of Glasgow," by Whittier (1807-92), cannot be praised too highly for its ethical value. Children always love to learn it after hearing it read correctly and by one who understands and appreciates it. "Stand by" is the motto. My pupils teach it to me once a year and learn it themselves, too. </div> <table class="poem" summary="poem"><tr><td><div class="stanza"> Beneath the low-hung night cloud That raked her splintering mast The good ship settled slowly, The cruel leak gained fast. </div> <div class="stanza"> Over the awful ocean Her signal guns pealed out. Dear God! was that Thy answer From the horror round about? </div> <div class="stanza"> A voice came down the wild wind, "Ho! ship ahoy!" its cry: "Our stout Three Bells of Glasgow Shall stand till daylight by!" </div> <div class="stanza"> Hour after hour crept slowly, Yet on the heaving swells Tossed up and down the ship-lights, The lights of the Three Bells! </div> <div class="stanza"> And ship to ship made signals, Man answered back to man, While oft, to cheer and hearten, The Three Bells nearer ran: </div> <div class="stanza"> And the captain from her taffrail Sent down his hopeful cry. "Take heart! Hold on!" he shouted, "The Three Bells shall stand by!" </div> <div class="stanza"> All night across the waters The tossing lights shone clear; All night from reeling taffrail The Three Bells sent her cheer. </div> <div class="stanza"> And when the dreary watches Of storm and darkness passed, Just as the wreck lurched under, All souls were saved at last. </div> <div class="stanza"> Sail on, Three Bells, forever, In grateful memory sail! Ring on, Three Bells of rescue, Above the wave and gale! </div> <div class="stanza"> Type of the Love eternal, Repeat the Master's cry, As tossing through our darkness The lights of God draw nigh! </div> </td></tr></table> John G. Whittier. <h3>Sheridan's Ride.</h3> <div class="pre_poem">There never was a boy who did not like "Sheridan's Ride," by T. Buchanan Read (1822-72). The swing and gallop in it take every boy off from his feet. The children never teach this poem to me, because they love to learn it at first sight. It is easily memorised. </div> <table class="poem" summary="poem"><tr><td><div class="stanza"> Up from the South at break of day, Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, The affrighted air with a shudder bore, Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, Telling the battle was on once more, And Sheridan twenty miles away. </div> <div class="stanza"> And wider still those billows of war Thundered along the horizon's bar; And louder yet into Winchester rolled The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, Making the blood of the listener cold As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, And Sheridan twenty miles away. </div> <div class="stanza"> But there is a road from Winchester town, A good, broad highway leading down; And there, through the flush of the morning light, A steed as black as the steeds of night Was seen to pass as with eagle flight; As if he knew the terrible need, He stretched away with his utmost speed; Hills rose and fell; but his heart was gay, With Sheridan fifteen miles away. </div> <div class="stanza"> Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering South, The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth; Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster. The heart of the steed and the heart of the master Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, Impatient to be where the battle-field calls; Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, With Sheridan only ten miles away. </div> <div class="stanza"> Under his spurning feet the road Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed, And the landscape sped away behind Like an ocean flying before the wind. And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace fire, Swept on, with his wild eye full of ire. But lo! he is nearing his heart's desire; He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, With Sheridan only five miles away. </div> <div class="stanza"> The first that the General saw were the groups Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops. What was done—what to do? A glance told him both, Then striking his spurs, with a terrible oath, He dashed down the line, mid a storm of huzzas, And the wave of retreat checked its course there, because The sight of the master compelled it to pause. With foam and with dust the black charger was gray; By the flash of his eye, and the red nostrils' play, He seemed to the whole great army to say: "I have brought you Sheridan all the way From Winchester down to save the day!" </div> <div class="stanza"> Hurrah! hurrah for Sheridan! Hurrah! hurrah for horse and man! And when their statues are placed on high, Under the dome of the Union sky, The American soldiers' Temple of Fame, There with the glorious General's name Be it said, in letters both bold and bright: "Here is the steed that saved the day, By carrying Sheridan into the fight From Winchester, twenty miles away!" </div> </td></tr></table> Thomas Buchanan Read. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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