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Poems for Little Girls

The 6 poems for little girls, by 5 poets, ranked by third-party data. How poems are ranked

THE LITTLE GIRL FOUND

William Blake

In 1 Wikipedia 0 anthologies Poet in 101 Wikipedias

All the night in woeLyca's parents goOver valleys deep,While the deserts weep.

Tired and woe-begone,Hoarse with making moan,Arm in arm, seven daysThey traced the desert ways.

Seven nights they sleepAmong shadows deep,And dream they see their childStarved in desert wild.

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Pale through pathless waysThe fancied image strays,Famished, weeping, weak,With hollow piteous shriek.

Rising from unrest,The trembling woman pressedWith feet of weary woe;She could no further go.

In his arms he boreHer, armed with sorrow sore;Till before their wayA couching lion lay.

Turning back was vain:Soon his heavy maneBore them to the ground,Then he stalked around,

Smelling to his prey;But their fears allayWhen he licks their hands,And silent by them stands.

They look upon his eyes,Filled with deep surprise;And wondering beholdA spirit armed in gold.

On his head a crown,On his shoulders downFlowed his golden hair.Gone was all their care.

"Follow me," he said;"Weep not for the maid;In my palace deep,Lyca lies asleep."

Then they followedWhere the vision led,And saw their sleeping childAmong tigers wild.

To this day they dwellIn a lonely dell,Nor fear the wolvish howlNor the lion's growl.

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Poems of William Blake

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THE LITTLE GIRL LOST

William Blake

In 1 Wikipedia 0 anthologies Poet in 101 Wikipedias

In futurityI prophetic seeThat the earth from sleep(Grave the sentence deep)

Shall arise, and seekfor her Maker meek;And the desert wildBecome a garden mild.

In the southern clime,Where the summer's primeNever fades away,Lovely Lyca lay.

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Seven summers oldLovely Lyca told.She had wandered long,Hearing wild birds' song.

"Sweet sleep, come to meUnderneath this tree;Do father, mother, weep?Where can Lyca sleep?

"Lost in desert wildIs your little child.How can Lyca sleepIf her mother weep?

"If her heart does ache,Then let Lyca wake;If my mother sleep,Lyca shall not weep.

"Frowning, frowning night,O'er this desert brightLet thy moon arise,While I close my eyes."

Sleeping Lyca layWhile the beasts of prey,Come from caverns deep,Viewed the maid asleep.

The kingly lion stood,And the virgin viewed:Then he gambolled roundO'er the hallowed ground.

Leopards, tigers, playRound her as she lay;While the lion oldBowed his mane of gold,

And her breast did lickAnd upon her neck,From his eyes of flame,Ruby tears there came;

While the lionessLoosed her slender dress,And naked they conveyedTo caves the sleeping maid.

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Poems of William Blake

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"THERE WAS A LITTLE GIRL"

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

In 0 Wikipedias 1 anthology Poet in 71 Wikipedias

There was a little girl, who had a little curlRight in the middle of her forehead,And when she was good she was very, very good,But when she was bad she was horrid.

She stood on her head, on her little trundle-bed,With nobody by for to hinder;She screamed and she squalled, she yelled and she bawled,And drummed her little heels against the winder.

Her mother heard the noise, and thought it was the boysPlaying in the empty attic,She rushed upstairs, and caught her unawares,And spanked her, most emphatic.

Source

The Home Book of Verse, ed. Burton Egbert Stevenson

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TO A LITTLE GIRL

Gustav Kobbe

In 0 Wikipedias 1 anthology Poet in 5 Wikipedias

Her eyes are like forget-me-nots,So loving, kind and true;Her lips are like a pink sea-shellJust as the sun shines through;Her hair is like the waving grainIn summer's golden light;And, best of all, her little soulIs, like a lily, white.

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The Home Book of Verse, ed. Burton Egbert Stevenson

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A LITTLE GIRL’S PRAYER

Katherine Mansfield

In 0 Wikipedias 0 anthologies Poet in 53 Wikipedias

Grant me the moment, the lovely momentThat I may lean forth to seeThe other buds, the other blooms,The other leaves on the tree:

That I may take into my bosomThe breeze that is like his brother,But stiller, lighter, whose faint laughterEchoes the joy of the other.

Above on the blue and white cloud-spacesThere are small clouds at play.I watch their remote, mysterious play-timeIn the other far-away.

Grant I may hear the small birds singingThe song that the silence knows ...(The Light and the Shadow whisper together,The lovely moment grows,

Ripples into the air like waterAway and away without sound,And the little girl gets up from her prayingOn the cold ground.)

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Poems, 1923

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THE LITTLE GIRL FROM TOWN

Edith Matilda Thomas

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Us children liked her, though she was so queer,When she came out to Pleasantville, last year;She "mustn't walk upon the grass," she said:We asked her why?--and she just shook her head!

Oh, yes, us children liked the little kid,Although she didn't know one thing we did,And said the oddest things you ever heard;She saw a goose, and asked, "What kind o' bird?"

Us children liked the little kid, oh, yes!She wa'n't a bit afraid to tear her dress;One day, when she went barefoot, just like us,She got a stone-bruise; but she didn't fuss!

Oh, yes! us children liked her, but oh, my!We had to teach her how to play "high spy";She came to see us,--called our house "a flat"--I wonder now--what could she mean by that?

Source

Children of Christmas, and Others, 1907

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6 poems for little girls

5 poets

By poet's century of death

19th3
20th3

Poets with more than one poem

William Blake2