First Grade Read Aloud Banquet

Songs for March

Baa! Baa! Black Sheep



Cock Robin and Jenny Wren



Warm Hands



Polly Put the Kettle On

The Land of Story-Books

At evening when the lamp is lit,

Around the fire my parents sit;

They sit at home and talk and sing,

And do not play at anything.


Now, with my little gun, I crawl

All in the dark along the wall,

And follow round the forest track

Away behind the sofa back.


There, in the night, where none can spy,

All in my hunter's camp I lie,

And play at books that I have read

Till it is time to go to bed.


These are the hills, these are the woods,

These are my starry solitudes;

And there the river by whose brink

The roaring lions come to drink.


I see the others far away

As if in firelit camp they lay,

And I, like to an Indian scout,

Around their party prowled about.


So when my nurse comes in for me,

Home I return across the sea,

And go to bed with backward looks

At my dear land of Story-Books.

  Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday Sunday
Week 12 Animal Language from The Story of Doctor Dolittle by Hugh Lofting John Stark and the Indians from Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans by Edward Eggleston The Tadpole Who Wanted To Be Grown-Up from Among the Pond People by Clara Dillingham Pierson The Seven Ravens from Fairy Tales Too Good To Miss—Up the Stairs by Lisa M. Ripperton Hiram, King of Tyre from On the Shores of the Great Sea by M. B. Synge New Friends and Old (Part 2 of 2) from The Swiss Twins by Lucy Fitch Perkins The Boy Who Became an Archer from Hurlbut's Story of the Bible by Jesse Lyman Hurlbut
Who Has Seen the Wind? by Christina Georgina Rossetti 		Market Square by A. A. Milne
Spring's Waking by Isabel Eccelstone Mackay 		My Bed Is a Boat by Robert Louis Stevenson Sweet and Low by Alfred Lord Tennyson Mary Had a Little Lamb by Sarah Josepha Hale Daffadowndilly by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Aesop for Children  by Milo Winter

The Two Goats

Two Goats, frisking gayly on the rocky steeps of a mountain valley, chanced to meet, one on each side of a deep chasm through which poured a mighty mountain torrent. The trunk of a fallen tree formed the only means of crossing the chasm, and on this not even two squirrels could have passed each other in safety. The narrow path would have made the bravest tremble. Not so our Goats. Their pride would not permit either to stand aside for the other.

One set her foot on the log. The other did likewise. In the middle they met horn to horn. Neither would give way, and so they both fell, to be swept away by the roaring torrent below.

It is better to yield than to come to misfortune through stubbornness.


[Illustration]