Author: H.G. Wells

Cattails Library has links to four of H.G. Wells works so far:

The Invisible Man
read  download  listen


The Time Machine
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The Shape of things to Come
read  Note: this book is specifically protected by copyright within the U.S.A. so anyone in or using a sytem within the U.S.A. cannot legally view or download this file.
watch Note: While this film is listed as being in the Public Domain, it seems there is also a notice of intent to enforce copyright on this work.

The War of the Worlds
read  download  listen audio book  listen original broadcast

Film: Treasure Island

The 1952 Studio One version of Robert Louis Stevenson's "Treasure Island"

film: Oliver Twist

The 1933 adaptation of Charles Dickens' "Oliver Twist" starring Dickie Moore.

film: King solomon's Mines

1937 version of Rider Haggard's "King Solomon's Mines" starring Paul Robeson.

film: Great Expectations

This is the 1946 version of the Charles Dickens classic "Great Expectations"

 

film: Frankenstein

The 1910 Thomas Edison film adaptation of Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein".

Film: Things to Come

This 1936 film is an adaptation of H. G. Wells' "The Shape of things to come" and Wells himself wrote the screenplay.

film: The Wizard of Oz

A slapstick silent version of "The Wizard of Oz" starring Oliver Hardy.

Film: The Phantom of the Opera

1925 film adaptation of the "Phantom of the Opera" starring Lon Chaney.

Film: Mr. Robinson Crusoe

1932 film "inspired" by Defoe's "Robinson Crusoe".

Film: The Lost World

1925 film adaptation of Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Lost World"

Film: The Hunchback of Notre Dame

The 1923 version starring Lon Chaney.

film: A farewell to Arms

1932 film starring Gary Cooper and Helen Hayes.

film: Cyrano De Bergerac

1950 film starring Jose Ferrer.

For more information about Cyrano de Bergerac (Hercule-Savinien de Cyrano de Bergerac) click here.

Film:"The Headless Horseman"

The "Headless Horseman". Film adapation of Washington Irving's "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

Film: The Jungle Book

1942 film adaptation of Kipling's "The Jungle book" directed by Zoltan Korda.

Film: "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn"

Film: "Robinson Crusoe"

Film: "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm"

1917 silent version of "Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm" starring Mary Pickford.

Film: "Pollyanna"

1919 silent version starring Mary Pickford.

film: Little women "Jo's Story"

1950 television film version of "Little Women" entitled "Jo's Story".

Film: Little Lord Fauntleroy

1936 film directed by John Cromwell. Original novel by Frances Hodgson Burnett.

Film: Gulliver's Travels

1939 film "Gulliver's Travels" directed by Max Fleischer.

Film: Alice in Wonderland

1915 silent version of "Alice in Wonderland"

Film: "The little Princess" based on "A little Princess"

"Scrooge" 1935 film adaptation of "A Christmas Carol"

The 1935 film "Scrooge" based on Charles Dicken's "A Christmas Carol.

Audio Books in Cattails Library

This list of public domain audio books is continuously updated as new links become available.

A 
A little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett
A Tale of two Cities by Charles Dickens
Arabian Nights Entertainments edited by Andrew Lang
B

C

D

E

F

G

H

I

J
The Story of Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans,  Andrew Lang

K
King Arthur's Knights: The Tales retold for Boys and Girls Henry Gilbert

L

M

N

O

P
Pinocchio: The Adventures of a Marionette by Carlo Collodi

Q

R
Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm by Kate Douglas Wiggin
Rip Van Winkle by Washington Irving
Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe

S
Swiss Family Robinson by Johann Wyss

T
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
The Iliad for Boys and Girls,  Alfred J. Church
The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving


U

V

W

X

Y

Z

Ancient Classics for Children

This is a collection books about the ancient classics especially written for children:


Greek Mythology
 
A Wonder Book for Girls and Boys,  Nathaniel Hawthorne
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

Tales of Troy and Greece,  Andrew Lang
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The Children's Plutarch: Tales of the Greeks,  Frederick James Gould
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text


Roman Mythology

The Aeneid for Boys and Girls,  Alfred J. Church
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

The Children's Plutarch: Tales of the Romans,  Frederick James Gould
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Homer

The Iliad for Boys and Girls,  Alfred J. Church
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

The Odyssey for Boys and Girls,  Alfred J. Church
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text


Greek and Roman Heroes

Plutarch's Lives for Boys and Girls,  Frederick James Gould
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King Arthur

King Arthur's Knights: The Tales retold for Boys and Girls, Henry Gilbert
read  download  listen watch 
The Boy's King Arthur (according to Sir Thomas Malory) edited by Sidney Lanier
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

Tales of the Round Table,  Andrew Lang
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text  coloring pages

The Boy's Mabinogion,  edited by Sidney Lanier
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

Wonder Stories from the Mabinogion,  Edward Brooks
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Other 

Arabian Nights Entertainments edited by Andrew Lang
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text  

The Story of Joan of Arc, the Maid of Orleans,  Andrew Lang
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

The Book of Wonder Voyages,  Joseph Jacobs
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text 

The Red Romance Book,  Andrew Lang (post)
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

The Boy's Froissart (Hundred Years War according to Sir John Froissart) edited by Sidney Lanier
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

Hans Brinker or the Silver Skates coloring pages

Free coloring pages from Mary Mapes Dodge's "Hans Brinker or the SIlver Skates" to download and print.

Right click on the image to open in a new tab and select print.

Love and Friendship by Emily Brontë

Love is like the wild rose-briar,

Friendship like the holly-tree

The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms

But which will bloom most constantly?

The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,

Its summer blossoms scent the air;

Yet wait till winter comes again

And who will call the wild-briar fair?

Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now

And deck thee with the holly’s sheen,

That when December blights thy brow

He may still leave thy garland green.

How Do I love Thee? Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of every day’s

Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love with a passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints, I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,

I shall but love thee better after death.

Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

‘Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!’

He took his vorpal sword in hand:

Long time the manxome foe he sought--

So rested he by the Tumtum tree,

And stood awhile in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,

The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,

Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,

And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! And through and through

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!

He left it dead, and with its head

He went galumphing back.

‘And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!’

He chortled in his joy.

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe

Hope is the Thing with Wings by Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all.

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chilliest land

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

Death be not Proud by John Donne

Death be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not soe,

For, those, whom thou think’st, thou dost overthrow,

Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill mee.

From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,

Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,

Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.

Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,

And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,

And better then thy stroake; why swell’st thou then?

One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,

And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

The Tyger by William Blake

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

In the forest of the night

What immortal hand or eye

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand? and what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? what dread grasp

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,

And watered heaven with their tears,

Did He smile his work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven by William Butler Yeats

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear --

‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!’

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns

O my Luve’s like a red, red rose,

That’s newly sprung in June:

O my Luve’s like the melodie,

That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

While the sands o’ life shall run.

 And fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!

And fare-thee-weel, a while!

And I will come again, my Luve,

Tho’ ’twere ten thousand mile!

Dulce et Decorum est by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep.

Many had lost their boots

But limped on, blood-shod.

All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.

GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!

An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling

And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

To Autumn by John Keats

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,

Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;

Conspiring with him how to load and bless

With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;

To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,

And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;

To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells

With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,

And still more, later flowers for the bees,

Until they think warm days will never cease,

For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?

Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find

Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,

Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;

Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,

Drows’d with the fume of poppies, while thy hook

Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:

And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep

Steady thy laden head across a brook;

Or by a cider-press, with patient look,

Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?

Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,

While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,

And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;

Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn

Among the river sallows, borne aloft

Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;

And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;

Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft

The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;

And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

The Soldier by Rupert Brooke

IF I should die, think only this of me:

That there’s some corner of a foreign field

That is forever England. There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,

A body of England’s, breathing English air,

Washed by the rivers, blest by the suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;

And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Sonnet 18 by William Shakespeare

Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And Summer’s lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And oft’ is his gold complexion dimm’d;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d:

But thy eternal Summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Answer to a Child's Question by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove,

The linner and thrush say, “I love and I love!”

In the winter they’re silent — the wind is so strong;

What it says, I don’t know, but it sings a loud song.

But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,

And singing, and loving — all come back together.

But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love,

The green fields below him, the blue sky above,

That he sings, and he sings; and for ever sings he-

“I love my Love, and my Love loves me!”

The Arrow and the Song by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I shot an arrow into the air,

It fell to earth, I knew not where;

For, so swiftly it flew, the sight

Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,

It fell to earth, I knew not where;

For who has sight so keen and strong,

That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak

I found the arrow, still unbroke;

And the song, from beginning to end,

I found again in the heart of a friend.

How Soon Hath Time by John Milton

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,

Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!

My hasting days fly on with full career,

But my late spring no bud or blossom shew’th.

Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,

That I to manhood am arrived so near,

And inward ripeness doth much less appear,

That some more timely-happy spirits endu’th.

Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,

It shall be still in strictest measure even

To that same lot, however mean or high,

Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven;

All is, if I have grace to use it so,

As ever in my great Taskmaster’s eye.

Invictus by W. E. Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

Through caverns measureless to man

Down to a sunless sea.

So twice five miles of fertile ground

With walls and towers were girdled round:

And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;

And here were forests ancient as the hills,

Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
 
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted

As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted

By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,

As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,

A mighty fountain momently was forced:

Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst

Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,

Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:

And ’mid these dancing rocks at once and ever

It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion

Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,

Then reached the caverns measureless to man,

And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:

And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far

Ancestral voices prophesying war!

The shadow of the dome of pleasure

Floated midway on the waves;

Where was heard the mingled measure

From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device,

A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer
 
In a vision once I saw: 

It was an Abyssinian maid,

And on her dulcimer she played,

Singing of Mount Abora.

Could I revive within me

Her symphony and song,

To such a deep delight ’twould win me,

That with music loud and long,

I would build that dome in air,

That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there,

And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flashing eyes, his floating hair!

Weave a circle round him thrice,

And close your eyes with holy dread,

For he on honey-dew hath fed,

And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Daffodils by William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o’er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way, 

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they

Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;

A poet could not be but gay,

In such a jocund company!

I gazed and gazed but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

Remember by Christina Rossetti

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you plann’d:

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

If by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream — and not make dreams your master;

If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breathe a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings — nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,

And — which is more — you’ll be a Man, my son!

The Song of Mister Toad by Kenneth Grahame

The world has held great Heroes,

As history-books have showed;

But never a name to go down to fame

Compared with that of Toad

The clever men at Oxford

Know all that there is to be knowed.

But they none of them knew one half as much

As intelligent Mr Toad!

The animals sat in the Ark and cried,

Their tears in torrents flowed.

Who was it said, “There’s land ahead?”

Encouraging Mr Toad!

The Army all saluted

As they marched along the road.

Was it the King? Or Kitchener?

No. It was Mr Toad!

The Queen and her Ladies-in-waiting

Sat at the window and sewed.

She cried, “Look! who’s that handsome man?”

They answered, “Mr Toad.”

Crossing the Bar by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crost the bar.

Poor Old Lady by Anon

Poor old lady, she swallowed a fly.
I don’t know why she swallowed a fly.
Poor old lady, I think she’ll die.

Poor old lady, she swallowed a spider.
It squirmed and wriggled and turned inside her.
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly.
I don’t know why she swallowed a fly.
Poor old lady, I think she’ll die.

Poor old lady, she swallowed a bird.
How absurd! She swallowed a bird.
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly,
I don’t know why she swallowed a fly.
Poor old lady, I think she’ll die.

Poor old lady, she swallowed a cat.
Think of that! She swallowed a cat.
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird.
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider.
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly,
I don’t know why she swallowed a fly.
Poor old lady, I think she’ll die.

Poor old lady, she swallowed a dog.
She went the whole hog when she swallowed the dog.
She swallowed the dog to catch the cat.
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird.
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider.
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly,
I don’t know why she swallowed a fly.
Poor old lady, I think she’ll die.

Poor old lady, she swallowed a cow.
I don’t know how she swallowed a cow.
She swallowed the cow to catch the dog.
She swallowed the dog to catch the cat.
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird.
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider.
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly,
I don’t know why she swallowed a fly.
Poor old lady, I think she’ll die.

Poor old lady, she swallowed a horse.
She died, of course.

I Hear America Singing by Walt Whitman

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,

Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,

The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,

The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,

The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the
steamboat deck,

The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,

The wood-cutter’s song, the ploughboy’s on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,

The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,

Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,

The day what belongs to the day — at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,

Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.


Watch a vibrant presentation of this poem by drowlan1
More about Walt Whitman 
Other works by Walt Whitman 
 

We'll go no more a-roving by Lord Byron

So, we’ll go no more a-roving

So late into the night,

Though the heart be still as loving,

And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,

And the soul wears out the breast,

And the heart must pause to breathe,

And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,

And the day returns too soon,

Yet we’ll go no more a-roving

By the light of the moon.


Listen to a recitation by SpokenVerse
A summary about this poem can be found here.
Other works by Lord Byron can be found here.

Coloring Pages from "Tales of the Round Table"

Free coloring pages from Andrew Lang's "Tales from the Round Table".

Right click to open in a new tab and select print.

(This book can be found in the Ancient Classics for Children tab)

 

 

 

 

Oscar Wilde's "The Happy Prince" coloring pages

Free coloring pages from Oscar Wilde's "The Happy Prince and other Tales" to download and print.

Right click on the image to open in a new tab and select print.

The Happy Prince

 

The Selfish Giant

 

The Remarkable Rocket

 

 

William Shakespeare

 This is the beginning of a list of links to the works of William Shakespeare:

Children's Adaptations

Tales from Shakespeare by Charles Lamb
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

Lamb's "Tales from Shakespeare" coloring pages

Free coloring pages from Charles Lamb's "Tales from Shakespeare" to download and print.

Right click on image to open in a new tab and select print.

The Tempest

As you like it

Comedy of Errors

Cymbeline

Measure for Measure

 

A Midsummer Night's Dream

 

Much Ado About Nothing

 

Othello

 

Pericles, Prince of Tyre

Twelfth Night

 

Winter's Tale

Blue Fairy Book coloring pages

Free coloring pages from Andrew Lang's "The Blue Fairy Book" to download and print.

Right click on image to open in a new tab and select print.

 

"Prince Darling transformed into the monster."

Charles Dickens

This the beginning of a list of works by Charles Dickens. New links will be added as they become available.


A Christmas Carol
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

A Tale of Two Cities
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

Bleak House
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

David Copperfield
read  download  listen  watch download plain text

Great Expectations
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

Little Dorrit
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

Martin Chuzzlewit
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text

Nicholas Nickleby
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text
 
Oliver Twist
read  download  listen  watch  download plain text