Thursday, April 8, 2010

There's something great at number 8

This month will yield all sorts of classics including the these two, single-author collections:

If people ask me,
I always tell them:
"Quite well, thank you, I'm very glad to say."
If people ask me,
I always answer,
"Quite well, thank you, how are you to-day?"
I always answer,
I always tell them,
If they ask me
Politely. . . .

           I wish

                      That they wouldn't.

--A. A. Milne

Halfway Down

Halfway down the stairs
Is a stair
Where I sit.
There isn't any
Other stair
Quite like
I'm not at the bottom,
I'm not at the top;
So this is the satir
I always

Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up,
And isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery,
It isn't in the town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head:
"It isn't really
It's somewhere else

--A. A. Milne

from When We Were Very Young, by A. A. Milne, (illustrations by Ernest Shepard). I have a reprint of the first Canadian edition, McClelland and Stewart, 1925.

A Thought
If I were John and John were Me,
Then he'd be six and I'd be three.
If John were me and I were John,
I shouldn't have these trousers on.

from When We Were Very Young, by A. A. Milne with decorations by Ernest H. Shepard. I have the first Canadian edition, McClelland and Stewart, 1927.

(Note: when quoting poems online, always include a full citation for the collection from which the poem originated. If the poem is not in the public domain (i.e. is still in copyright) abide by the principle of Fair Dealing in your use of the work.)


  1. I do love Milne's poetry. I remember my mom reading it me as a kid.

  2. That top poem is my favourite so far in this series. Pie HATES poetry. If I trick her into letting me read some to her (because maybe it doesn't look like a poem on the page), she always cuts me short as soon as I hit the first rhyme. I am irrationally proud of this trait in her.

  3. Bea: Really!?!?! My M LOVES poetry. We often read an entire collection at a time.

  4. I love those poems. Reading them is like slipping into a ratty old bathrobe with a cup of tea - so comfortable.


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