Poems By a Little Girl | Page 8

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 sandals
Not to make a noise of
going.
The caterpillars, like little snow men,
Had wound themselves
in their winter coats.
The hands of the trees were bare
And their
fingers fluttered.
I was a queen of yellow leaves and brown,
And
the redness of my fairy ring
Kept me warm.
For the wind blew near,

Though he made no noise of going,
And I hadn't a close-made
wrap
Like the caterpillars.
Even a queen of fairies can be cold

When summer has forgotten and gone!
Keep me warm, red leaves;

Don't let the frost tiptoe into my ring
On the magic grass!
THE DREAM
When I slept, I thought I was upon the mountain-tops,
And this is my
dream.
I saw the little people come out into the night,
I saw their
wings glittering under the stars.
Crickets played all the tunes they
knew.
It was so comfortable with light . . .
Stars, a rainbow, the
moon!

The fairies had shiny crowns
On their bright hair.
The
bottoms of their little gowns were roses!
It was musical in the moony
light,
And the fairy queen,
Oh, it was all golden where she came


With tiny pages on her trail.
She walked slowly to her high throne,

Slowly, slowly to music,
And watched the dancing that went on
All
night long in star-glitter
On the mountain-tops.
BUTTERFLY
Butterfly,
I like the way you wear your wings.
Show me their colors,

For the light is going.
Spread out their edges of gold,
Before the
Sandman puts me to sleep
And evening murmurs by.
EVENING
Now it is dusky,
And the hermit thrush and the black and white
warbler
Are singing and answering together.
There is sweetness in
the tree,
And fireflies are counting the leaves.
I like this country,
I
like the way it has,
But I cannot forget my dream I had of the sea,

The gulls swinging and calling,
And the foamy towers of the waves.
THUNDER SHOWER
The dark cloud raged.
Gone was the morning light.
The big drops
darted down:
The storm stood tall on the rose-trees:
And the bees
that were getting honey
Out of wet roses,
The hiding bees would
not come out of the flowers
Into the rain.
RED CROSS SONG
When I heard the bees humming in the hive,
They were so busy about
their honey,
I said to my mother,
What can I give,
What can I
give to help the Red Cross?
And Mother said to me:
You can give
honey too!
Honey of smiles!
Honey of love!
PURPLE ASTERS
It isn't alone the asters
In my garden,
It is the butterflies gleaming


Like crowns of kings and queens!
It isn't alone purple
And blue on

the edge of purple,
It is what the sun does,
And the air moving
clearly,
The petals moving and the wings,
In my queer little garden!
SONG FOR A PLAY
Soldier drop that golden spear!
Wait till the fires arise!
Wait till the
sky drops down and touches the spear,
Crystal and mother-of-pearl!

The sunlight droops forward
Like wings.
The birds sing songs of
sun-drops.
The sky leans down where the spear stands upward. . .
I
hear music . . .
It is the end . . .
PEACOCK FEATHERS
On trees of fairyland
Grow peacock feathers of daylight colors
Like
an Austrian fan.
But there is a strange thing!
I have heard that night
gathers these feathers
For her cloak;
I have heard that the stars, the
moon,
Are the eyes of peacock feathers
From fairy trees.
It is a
thing that may be,
But I should not be sure of it, my dear,
If I were
you!
RED ROOSTER
Red rooster in your gray coop,
O stately creature with tail-feathers
red and blue,
Yellow and black,
You have a comb gay as a parade

On your head:
You have pearl trinkets
On your feet:
The short
feathers smooth along your back
Are the dark color of wet rocks,

Or the rippled green of ships
When I look at their sides through water.

I don't know how you happened to be made
So proud, so foolish,

Wearing your coat of many colors,
Shouting all day long your
crooked words,
Loud . . . sharp . . . not beautiful!
TREE-TOAD
Tree-toad is a small gray person
With a silver voice.
Tree-toad is a
leaf-gray shadow
That sings.
Tree-toad is never seen
Unless a star

squeezes through the leaves,
Or a moth looks sharply at a gray