Now We Are Six
Autor A. A. Milne Ernest H. Sheparden Limba Engleză Hardback – 31 ian 2008 – vârsta de la 5 până la 8 ani
When We Were Very Young and Now We Are Six complete the four-volume set of deluxe editions of the Milne and Shepard classic works. Like their companions, the Winnie-the-Pooh 80th Anniversary Edition and The House At Pooh Corner, these beautiful books feature full-color artwork on cream-colored stock. The imaginative charm that has made Pooh the world’s most famous bear pervades the pages of Milne’s poetry, and Ernest H. Shepard’s witty and loving illustrations enhance these truly delightful gift editions.
| Toate formatele și edițiile | Preț | Express |
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| Paperback (2) | 35.88 lei 23-35 zile | +30.21 lei 7-13 zile |
| ALADDIN PAPERBACKS – 6 aug 2024 | 35.88 lei 23-35 zile | +30.21 lei 7-13 zile |
| HarperCollins Publishers – 14 mar 2023 | 50.87 lei 3-5 săpt. | |
| Hardback (6) | 83.57 lei 3-5 săpt. | |
| Dover Publications – 17 ian 2023 | 83.57 lei 3-5 săpt. | |
| Dutton Children's Books – 30 sep 1988 | 85.77 lei 3-5 săpt. | |
| Penguin Young Readers Group – sep 2020 | 86.38 lei 3-5 săpt. | |
| Sky Pony – 6 noi 2025 | 88.31 lei 3-5 săpt. | |
| ALADDIN PAPERBACKS – 6 aug 2024 | 91.90 lei 3-5 săpt. | |
| Blurb – 16 iun 2023 | 177.32 lei 6-8 săpt. |
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9780525479291
ISBN-10: 0525479295
Pagini: 101
Dimensiuni: 157 x 211 x 18 mm
Greutate: 0.39 kg
Ediția:Deluxe
Editura: Dutton Children's Books
ISBN-10: 0525479295
Pagini: 101
Dimensiuni: 157 x 211 x 18 mm
Greutate: 0.39 kg
Ediția:Deluxe
Editura: Dutton Children's Books
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Notă biografică
A. A. Milne was born in 1882 in London. He was a playwright and a journalist, as well as a poet and storyteller. His children’s books were inspired by his son, Christopher Robin. Milne died in 1956. E. H. Shepard was born in 1879 in England. His pictures of the Pooh characters are based on real toys owned by Christopher Robin Milne. Shepard died in 1976.
Extras
Solitude
I have a house where I go
When there’s too many people,
I have a house where I go
Where no one can be;
I have a house where I go
Where nobody ever says “No”;
Where no one says anything—so
There is no one but me.
King John’s Christmas
King John was not a good man—
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air—
And bad King John stood dumbly there,
Blushing beneath his crown.
King John was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon.…
But no one came to tea.
And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lots of Christmas cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.
King John was not a good man.
Yet had his hopes and fears.
They’d given him no present now
For years and years and years.
But every year at Christmas,
While minstrels stood about,
Collecting tribute from the young
For all the songs they might have sung,
He stole away upstairs and hung
A hopeful stocking out.
King John was not a good man.
He lived his life aloof;
Alone he thought a message out
While climbing up the roof.
He wrote it down and propped it
Against the chimney stack:
“TO ALL AND SUNDRY—NEAR AND FAR—
F. CHRISTMAS IN PARTICULAR.”
And signed it not “Johannes R.”
But very humbly, “JACK.”
“I want some crackers,
And I want some candy;
I think a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I don’t mind oranges,
I do like nuts!
And I SHOULD like a pocketknife
That really cuts.
And, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india rubber ball!”
King John was not a good man—
He wrote this message out,
And got him to his room again,
Descending by the spout.
And all that night he lay there,
A prey to hopes and fears.
“I think that’s him a-coming now.”
(Anxiety bedewed his brow.)
“He’ll bring one present, anyhow—
The first I’ve had for years.”
“Forget about the crackers,
And forget about the candy;
I’m sure a box of chocolates
Would never come in handy;
I don’t like oranges,
I don’t want nuts,
And I HAVE got a pocketknife
That almost cuts.
But, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india rubber ball!”
King John was not a good man—
Next morning when the sun
Rose up to tell a waiting world
That Christmas had begun,
And people seized their stockings,
And opened them with glee,
And crackers, toys, and games appeared,
And lips with sticky sweets were smeared,
King John said grimly: “As I feared,
Nothing again for me!”
“I did want crackers,
And I did want candy;
I know a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I do love oranges,
I did want nuts.
I haven’t got a pocketknife—
Not one that cuts.
And, oh! If Father Christmas had loved me at all,
He would have brought a big, red, india rubber ball!”
King John stood by the window,
And frowned to see below
The happy bands of boys and girls
All playing in the snow.
A while he stood there watching,
And envying them all…
When through the window, big and red
There hurtled by his royal head,
And bounced and fell upon the bed,
An india rubber ball!
AND, OH, FATHER CHRISTMAS,
MY BLESSINGS ON YOU FALL
FOR BRINGING HIM
A BIG, RED,
INDIA RUBBER
BALL!
I have a house where I go
When there’s too many people,
I have a house where I go
Where no one can be;
I have a house where I go
Where nobody ever says “No”;
Where no one says anything—so
There is no one but me.
King John’s Christmas
King John was not a good man—
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air—
And bad King John stood dumbly there,
Blushing beneath his crown.
King John was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon.…
But no one came to tea.
And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lots of Christmas cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.
King John was not a good man.
Yet had his hopes and fears.
They’d given him no present now
For years and years and years.
But every year at Christmas,
While minstrels stood about,
Collecting tribute from the young
For all the songs they might have sung,
He stole away upstairs and hung
A hopeful stocking out.
King John was not a good man.
He lived his life aloof;
Alone he thought a message out
While climbing up the roof.
He wrote it down and propped it
Against the chimney stack:
“TO ALL AND SUNDRY—NEAR AND FAR—
F. CHRISTMAS IN PARTICULAR.”
And signed it not “Johannes R.”
But very humbly, “JACK.”
“I want some crackers,
And I want some candy;
I think a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I don’t mind oranges,
I do like nuts!
And I SHOULD like a pocketknife
That really cuts.
And, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india rubber ball!”
King John was not a good man—
He wrote this message out,
And got him to his room again,
Descending by the spout.
And all that night he lay there,
A prey to hopes and fears.
“I think that’s him a-coming now.”
(Anxiety bedewed his brow.)
“He’ll bring one present, anyhow—
The first I’ve had for years.”
“Forget about the crackers,
And forget about the candy;
I’m sure a box of chocolates
Would never come in handy;
I don’t like oranges,
I don’t want nuts,
And I HAVE got a pocketknife
That almost cuts.
But, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india rubber ball!”
King John was not a good man—
Next morning when the sun
Rose up to tell a waiting world
That Christmas had begun,
And people seized their stockings,
And opened them with glee,
And crackers, toys, and games appeared,
And lips with sticky sweets were smeared,
King John said grimly: “As I feared,
Nothing again for me!”
“I did want crackers,
And I did want candy;
I know a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I do love oranges,
I did want nuts.
I haven’t got a pocketknife—
Not one that cuts.
And, oh! If Father Christmas had loved me at all,
He would have brought a big, red, india rubber ball!”
King John stood by the window,
And frowned to see below
The happy bands of boys and girls
All playing in the snow.
A while he stood there watching,
And envying them all…
When through the window, big and red
There hurtled by his royal head,
And bounced and fell upon the bed,
An india rubber ball!
AND, OH, FATHER CHRISTMAS,
MY BLESSINGS ON YOU FALL
FOR BRINGING HIM
A BIG, RED,
INDIA RUBBER
BALL!
Descriere
Descriere de la o altă ediție sau format:
'But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever. So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever!' This work includes poems for children which feature Pooh helping Christopher Robin with his schoolwork (if helping is the word). It is an evocation of childhood, through the eyes of the six-year-old Robin.
'But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever. So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever!' This work includes poems for children which feature Pooh helping Christopher Robin with his schoolwork (if helping is the word). It is an evocation of childhood, through the eyes of the six-year-old Robin.
Recenzii
"A.A. Milne’s charming tales of honey-loving Winnie-the-Pooh, timid Piglet, grumpy Eeyore and their human friend Christopher Robin have delighted readers for generations." —Time