Poems By a Little Girl Part 6

He moans and weeps But we do not hear.

Sorrow stands in his face For the heavy weight and worry Of people pa.s.sing.

The trees drop their leaves into the water; The sky nods to him.

The leaves float down like small s.h.i.+ps On the blue surface Which is the sky.

He is not always sad: He smiles to see the s.h.i.+ps go down And the little children Playing on the river banks.

FERNS

Small ferns up-coming through the mossy green, Up-curling and springing, See trees circling round them, And the straight brook like a lily-stem: Hear the water laughing At the stern old pine-tree Who keeps sighing to himself all day long What's the use! What's the use!

LAND OF NOD

I wander mountain to mountain, From sea to sea, I wander into a country Where everyone is asleep.

There in the Land of Nod I never think of home, For home is there, With sleeping doves and silvery girls, Sleeping boys and drowsy roses.

There I find people whose eyes are heavy, And trees with folded wings.

SUN FLOWERS

Sun-flowers, stop growing!

If you touch the sky where those clouds are pa.s.sing Like tufts of dandelion gone to seed, The sky will put you out!

You know it is blue like the sea . . .

Maybe it is wet, too!

Your gold faces will be gone forever If you brush against that blue Ever so softly!

HOLLAND SONG

For a Dutch picture

When light comes creeping through the That s.h.i.+ne with mist, When winds blow soft, Windmills wake and whirl.

In Holland, in Holland, Everything is cheerful Across the sea: White nets are beside the water Where s.h.i.+ps sail by.

The mountains begin to get blue, The Dutch girls begin to sing, The windmills begin to whirl.

Then night comes The mountains turn dark gray And faint away into night.

Not a bird chirps his song.

All is drowsy, All is strange, With the moon and stars s.h.i.+ning round the world: The wind stops, The windmills stop In Holland . . .

FOUNTAIN-TALK

Said the fountain to its clear bed, "You might flow faster!

I am sprinkling my best, every day, But ice is holding you fast.

Can't you get out?

Can't you lift yourself with sun?

I am tired waiting for slow cold water To fling about the air: Can't you wake yourself up?"

But the fountain-basin murmured softly "Sleep . . . sleep . . .

Sleep . . . sleep . . .

You with your talking and talking!

Hush . . . hush . . .

I hear the bird-sandman!"

POPLARS

The poplars bow forward and back; They are like a fan waving very softly.

They tremble, For they love the wind in their feathery branches.

They love to look down at the shallows, At the mermaids On the sandy sh.o.r.e; They love to look into morning's face Cool in the water.

THE TOWER AND THE FALCON

There was a tower, once, In a London street.

It was the highest, widest, thickest tower, The proudest, roundest, finest tower Of all towers.

English men pa.s.sed it by: They could not see it all Because it went above tree-tops and clouds.

It was lonely up there where the trees stopped Until one day A blue falcon came flying.

He cried: "Tower! Do you know you are the highest, finest, roundest, The tallest, proudest, greatest, Of all the towers In all the world?"

He went away.

That night the tower made a new song About himself.

THOUGHTS

My thoughts keep going far away Into another country under a different sky: My thoughts are sea-foam and sand; They are apple-petals fluttering.

POEM-SKETCH IN THREE PARTS