A Childs Garden of Verses | Page 6

so full of a number of things,
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.
XXV
The Wind

I saw you toss the kites on high?And blow the birds about the sky;?And all around I heard you pass,?Like ladies' skirts across the grass--
O wind, a-blowing all day long,?O wind, that sings so loud a song!
I saw the different things you did,?But always you yourself you hid.?I felt you push, I heard you call,?I could not see yourself at all--
O wind, a-blowing all day long,?O wind, that sings so loud a song!
O you that are so strong and cold,?O blower, are you young or old??Are you a beast of field and tree,?Or just a stronger child than me?
O wind, a-blowing all day long,?O wind, that sings so loud a song!
XXVI
Keepsake Mill

Over the borders, a sin without pardon,
Breaking the branches and crawling below,?Out through the breach in the wall of the garden,
Down by the banks of the river we go.
Here is a mill with the humming of thunder,
Here is the weir with the wonder of foam,?Here is the sluice with the race running under--
Marvellous places, though handy to home!
Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller,
Stiller the note of the birds on the hill;?Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller,
Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill.
Years may go by, and the wheel in the river
Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day,?Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for ever
Long after all of the boys are away.
Home for the Indies and home from the ocean,
Heroes and soldiers we all will come home;?Still we shall find the old mill wheel in motion,
Turning and churning that river to foam.
You with the bean that I gave when we quarrelled,
I with your marble of Saturday last,?Honoured and old and all gaily apparelled,
Here we shall meet and remember the past.
XXVII
Good and Bad Children

Children, you are very little,?And your bones are very brittle;?If you would grow great and stately,?You must try to walk sedately.
You must still be bright and quiet,?And content with simple diet;?And remain, through all bewild'ring,?Innocent and honest children.
Happy hearts and happy faces,?Happy play in grassy places--?That was how in ancient ages,?Children grew to kings and sages.
But the unkind and the unruly,?And the sort who eat unduly,?They must never hope for glory--?Theirs is quite a different story!
Cruel children, crying babies,?All grow up as geese and gabies,?Hated, as their age increases,?By their nephews and their nieces.
XXVIII
Foreign Children

Little Indian, Sioux, or Crow,?Little frosty Eskimo,?Little Turk or Japanee,?Oh! don't you wish that you were me?
You have seen the scarlet trees?And the lions over seas;?You have eaten ostrich eggs,?And turned the turtles off their legs.
Such a life is very fine,?But it's not so nice as mine:?You must often as you trod,?Have wearied NOT to be abroad.
You have curious things to eat,?I am fed on proper meat;?You must dwell upon the foam,?But I am safe and live at home.
Little