Skip to comments.Any haracter building poems??? (Vanity)
Posted on 08/27/2006 9:21:02 AM PDT by Zechariah11
I have just spent two hours on line and combing through a Children's Poetry book for inspirational poems which could be used in the classroom. I have a list of ONE!!! Does anyone else have an idea for a poem other than "If" which can be used?
And PLEASE don't suggest those vapid, nonsense works from Shel Silverstein. Thanks to all who wish to make a contribution.
Thanks. I'll be teaching in one of the most liberal cities in California so I've got to be careful.. I'd love to use "The Charge of the Light Brigade" but am a bit hesitant to ruffle the feathers of peacenik parents.
FANTASTIC!!! That's a keeper which I'll use. Thanks very much.
Beautiful. That's a third one I can use. Thanks so much.
Unfortunately, these kids know only Langston Hughes and Shel Silversten.
I was about to abandon the poetry aspect of this approach to my teaching until your valuable contributions.
Again, thanks friends at Free Republic and especially you, syriacus.
Stevenson is just the ticket.. I've found at least one on that site and will be going back to check for others.
I suggest finding a better text. The one above seems a little crude.
Leda, your turn.
I would highly recommend the Robert Service poems.
Good glad you found what you were looking for.
Rudyard Kipling is another excellent choice.
Not bad for Dr. Seuss.
Just thought of another one, Joyce Kilmer's "Trees."
One of my favorites, and I'm middle-aged.
i think the things i've written are too young for 6th gr ...
We memorized it when I was about 13.
You might remember it ..it starts with
I wander'd lonely as a cloudIt has 3 more stanzas. It's not exactly a character-building poem, but it does encourage treasuring things that money does not buy.
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze
"Before the gates of excellence the High gods have placed sweat. Long and rough is the road thereto, but once it has been reached, then there is ease; then there is ease, though grievously hard in the winning."--Hesiod, Works and Days
"The quest of the Inner Ring will break your hearts unless you break it. But if you break it, a surprising result will follow. If in your working hours you make the work your end, you will presently find yourself all unawares inside the only circle in your profession that really matters. You will be one of the sound craftsmen, and other sound craftsmen will know it. "--C.S. Lewis, The Inner Ring
probably best for early teen males:
by Rudyard Kipling
and on the issue of paying attention to details (and the disasters that
follow ignoring them)
the old saw about "for the want of a nail, the shoe was lost..."
(I think it's a saw from earlier than Franklin)
The Village Blacksmith
UNDER a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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