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 4 My Father Finds the River from My Father's Dragon by Ruth Stiles Gannett William Penn and the Indians from Stories of Great Americans for Little Americans by Edward Eggleston The Chicken Who Wouldn't Eat Gravel from Among the Farmyard People by Clara Dillingham Pierson Spindle, Shuttle, and Needle from Fairy Tales Too Good To Miss—Up the Stairs by Lisa M. Ripperton Joseph in Egypt from On the Shores of the Great Sea by M. B. Synge A Mountain Storm (Part 1 of 2) from The Swiss Twins by Lucy Fitch Perkins Saint Bridget from Our Island Saints by Amy Steedman
London Bridge, Anonymous
The Christening by A. A. Milne
The Snow Bird by F. C. Woodworth
Picture-Books in Winter by Robert Louis Stevenson A Chill by Christina Georgina Rossetti Little Things by Julia Fletcher Carney Hope 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]