Poems By a Little Girl | Page 7

that runs very fast,?That goes pulling the moon?Through the tops of the poplars.?It is all in silver,?The tall star:?The moon rolls goldenly along?Out of breath.?Mr. Moon, does he make you hurry?
SUNSET
Once upon a time at evening-light?A little girl was sad.?There was a color in the sky,?A color she knew in her dreamful heart?And wanted to keep.?She held out her arms?Long, long,?And saw it flow away on the wind.?When it was gone?She did not love the moonlight?Or care for the stars.?She had seen the rose in the sky.
Sometimes I am sad?Because I have a thought?Of this little girl.
MOUSE
Little mouse in gray velvet,?Have you had a cheese-breakfast??There are no crumbs on your coat,?Did you use a napkin??I wonder what you had to eat,?And who dresses you in gray velvet?
SHORT STORY
I found the gold on the hill;?I found the hid gold!
The wicked queen?Stole the gold,?Hid it under a stone?And never told.
The selfish queen?Rolling away?In her white limousine,?Never knew nor dreamed?That I searched all day?Till I found the gold,?The gold!
BY LAKE CHAMPLAIN
I was bare as a leaf?And I felt the wind on my shoulder.?The trees laughed?When I picked up the sun in my fingers.?The wind was chasing the waves,?Tangling their white curls.?"Willow trees," I said,?"O willows,?Look at your lake!?Stop laughing at a little girl?Who runs past your feet in the sand!"
SPRING SONG
I love daffodils.?I love Narcissus when he bends his head.?I can hardly keep March and spring and Sunday and daffodils Out of my rhyme of song.?Do you know anything about the spring?When it comes again??God knows about it while winter is lasting.?Flowers bring him power in the spring,?And birds bring it, and children.?He is sometimes sad and alone?Up there in the sky trying to keep his worlds happy.?I bring him songs?When he is in his sadness, and weary.?I tell him how I used to wander out?To study stars and the moon he made,?And flowers in the dark of the wood.?I keep reminding him about his flowers he has forgotten,?And that snowdrops are up.?What can I say to make him listen??"God," I say,?"Don't you care!?Nobody must be sad or sorry?In the spring-time of flowers."
WATER
The world turns softly?Not to spill its lakes and rivers.?The water is held in its arms?And the sky is held in the water.?What is water,?That pours silver,?And can hold the sky?
SHADY BRONN
When the clouds come deep against the sky?I sit alone in my room to think,?To remember the fairy dreams I made,?Listening to the rustling out of the trees.?The stories in my fairy-tale book?Come new to me every day.?But at my farm on the hill-top?I have the wind for a fairy,?And the shapes of things:?Shady Bronn is the name of my little farm:?It is the name of a dream I have?Where leaves move,?And the wind rings them like little bells.
CHICKADEE
The chickadee in the appletree?Talks all the time very gently.?He makes me sleepy.?I rock away to the sea-lights.?Far off I hear him talking?The way smooth bright pebbles?Drop into water . . .?Chick-a-dee-dee-dee . . .
THE CHAMPLAIN SANDMAN
The Sandman comes pattering across the Bay:?His hair is silver,?His footstep soft.?The moon shines on his silver hair,?On his quick feet.?The Sandman comes searching across the Bay:?He goes to all the houses he knows?To put sand in little girls' eyes.?That is why I go to my sleepy bed,?And why the lake-gull leaves the moon alone.?There are no wings to moonlight any more,?Only the Sandman's hair.
ROSE-MOSS
Little Rose-moss beside the stone,?Are you lonely in the garden??There are no friends of you,?And the birds are gone.?Shall I pick you?"
"Little girl up by the hollyhock,?I am not lonely.?I feel the sun burning,?I hold light in my cup,?I have all the rain I want,?I think things to myself that you don't know,?And I listen to the talk of crickets.?I am not lonely,?But you may pick me?And take me to your mother."
ABOUT MY DREAMS
Now the flowers are all folded?And the dark is going by.?The evening is arising . . .?It is time to rest.?When I am sleeping?I find my pillow full of dreams.?They are all new dreams:?No one told them to me?Before I came through the cloud.?They remember the sky, my little dreams,?They have wings, they are quick, they are sweet.?Help me tell my dreams?To the other children,?So that their bread may taste whiter,?So that the milk they drink?May make them think of meadows?In the sky of stars.?Help me give bread to the other children?So that their dreams may come back:?So they will remember what they knew?Before they came through the cloud.?Let me hold their little hands in the dark,?The lonely children,
ABOUT MY DREAMS
The babies that have no mothers any more.?Dear God, let me hold up my silver cup?For them to drink,?And tell them the sweetness?Of my dreams.
SIX TO SEVEN YEARS OLD
AUTUMN SONG
I made a ring of leaves?On the autumn grass:?I was a fairy queen all day.?Inside the ring, the wind wore