Today is the birthday of

Today is the birthday of Eleanor Farjeon, author of the poem Morning Has Broken which was later recorded by Cat Stevens.

Morning has broken,
Like the first morning,
Blackbird has spoken
Like the first bird;
Praise for the singing,
Praise for the morning,
Praise for them springing
Fresh from the Word.

Sweet the rain’s new fall,
Sunlit from heaven,
Like the first dewfall
On the first grass;
Praise for the sweetness,
Of the wet garden,
Sprung in completeness
Where His feet pass.

Mine is the sunlight,
Mine is the morning,
Born of the one light
Eden saw play;
Praise with elation,
Praise every morning,
God’s re-creation
Of the new day.

I like it. I was reading about Farjeon. She was homeschooled, began writing when she was five years old, and was a friend of one of my favorite poets, Robert Frost. I also saw references to a children’s book she wrote, apparently out of print now, called Kings and Queens. It had a short poem and an illustration for each of the 41 English kings and queens who have reigned over that blessed isle. It sounds delightful. Here’s a sample:

Bluff King Hal was full of beans
He married half a dozen queens
For three called Kate they cried the banns
And one called Jane, and a couple of Annes.

The first he asked to share his reign
Was Kate of Aragon, straight from Spain
But when his love for her was spent
He got a divorce, and out she went.

Anne Boleyn was his second wife.
He swore to cherish her all his life,
But seeing a third, he wished instead
He chopped off poor Anne Boleyn’s head.

He married the next afternoon
Jane Seymour, which was rather soon,
But after one year as his bride
She crept into her bed and died.

Anne of Cleves was number four.
Her portrait thrilled him to the core,
But when he met her face to face
Another royal divorce took place.

Catherine Howard, number five,
Billed and cooed to keep alive.
But one day Henry felt depressed,
The executioner did the rest.

Sixth and last was Catherine Parr
Sixth and last and luckiest far
For this time it was Henry who
Hopped the twig, and a good job too.

5 thoughts on “Today is the birthday of

  1. I have been searching for this poem! I learned it when I was little and have been trying to remember it as I read The Other Boleyn Girl for my book group. Thank you for posting it.

  2. I have had a snippet of that poem in my head for 35 years. Thank you for reuniting me with the rest of it!

  3. I found this when I was really little in a book called A Calvacade of Queens, and I’m so glad I could find it! You rock!

  4. WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR

    William The First was the first of our kings
    Not counting Ethelberts, Alfreds and things;
    He had himself crowned, anointed and blessed
    In Ten-Sixty – I needn’t tell you the rest!

    Now being a Norman King William the First
    By the Saxons he’d conquered was hated and cursed;
    They planned and they plotted far into the night,
    Which William could tell from their candles alight.

    So William decided these rebels to quell
    By inventing the Curfew, a sort of a bell,
    And if any Saxon was found out of bed
    After eight o’clock sharp it was off with his head!

    At BONG! Number One they all started to run
    Like a warren of rabbits upset by a gun;
    At BONG! Number Two they were all in a stew
    Flinging cap after tunic and hose after shoe;
    At BONG! Number Three they were stripped to the knee
    Undoing the doings as quick as can be;
    At BONG! Number Four they were all in the raw
    Pulling on nightshirts the wrong side before;
    At BONG! Number Five they were coming alive
    A-bizzing and buzzing like bees in a hive;
    At BONG! Number Six they leapt over sticks
    Reaching for candles to snuff out the wicks;
    At BONG! Number Seven from Yorkshire to Devon
    They slipped up a prayer to Our Father in heaven;

    And at BONG! Number Eight,
    I need hardly relate,
    In the deuce of a state,
    At a terrible rate,
    The jumped BONG! into bed
    Like a bull at a gate.

    This was typed from memory and so may have one or two – or more – mistakes in it.

  5. At last I have found the poem which was read to me in Grade 7 57 years ago. I am so pleased.

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