A Child’s Garden of Verses · Part IV

XXXII The Moon

The moon has a face like the clock in the hall; She shines on thieves on the garden wall, On streets and fields and harbour quays, And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse, The howling dog by the door of the house, The bat that lies in bed at noon, All love to be out by the light of the moon.

But all of the things that belong to the day Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way; And flowers and children close their eyes Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.

XXXIII The Swing

How do you like to go up in a swing, Up in the air so blue? Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall, Till I can see so wide, River and trees and cattle and all Over the countryside--

Till I look down on the garden green, Down on the roof so brown-- Up in the air I go flying again, Up in the air and down!

XXXIV Time to Rise

A birdie with a yellow bill Hopped upon my window sill, Cocked his shining eye and said: "Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head!"

XXXV Looking-Glass River

Smooth it glides upon its travel, Here a wimple, there a gleam-- O the clean gravel! O the smooth stream!

Sailing blossoms, silver fishes, Paven pools as clear as air-- How a child wishes To live down there!

We can see our colored faces Floating on the shaken pool Down in cool places, Dim and very cool;

Till a wind or water wrinkle, Dipping marten, plumping trout, Spreads in a twinkle And blots all out.

See the rings pursue each other; All below grows black as night, Just as if mother Had blown out the light!

Patience, children, just a minute-- See the spreading circles die; The stream and all in it Will clear by-and-by.

XXXVI Fairy Bread

Come up here, O dusty feet! Here is fairy bread to eat. Here in my retiring room, Children, you may dine On the golden smell of broom And the shade of pine; And when you have eaten well, Fairy stories hear and tell.

XXXVII From a Railway Carriage

Faster than fairies, faster than witches, Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches; And charging along like troops in a battle All through the meadows the horses and cattle: All of the sights of the hill and the plain Fly as thick as driving rain; And ever again, in the wink of an eye, Painted stations whistle by.

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles, All by himself and gathering brambles; Here is a tramp who stands and gazes; And here is the green for stringing the daisies! Here is a cart run away in the road Lumping along with man and load; And here is a mill, and there is a river: Each a glimpse and gone forever!

XXXVIII Winter-Time

Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy-head; Blinks but an hour or two; and then, A blood-red orange, sets again.

Before the stars have left the skies, At morning in the dark I rise; And shivering in my nakedness, By the cold candle, bathe and dress.

Close by the jolly fire I sit To warm my frozen bones a bit; Or with a reindeer-sled, explore The colder countries round the door.

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap Me in my comforter and cap; The cold wind burns my face, and blows Its frosty pepper up my nose.

Black are my steps on silver sod; Thick blows my frosty breath abroad; And tree and house, and hill and lake, Are frosted like a wedding cake.

XXXIX The Hayloft

Through all the pleasant meadow-side The grass grew shoulder-high, Till the shining scythes went far and wide And cut it down to dry.

Those green and sweetly smelling crops They led in waggons home; And they piled them here in mountain tops For mountaineers to roam.

Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail, Mount Eagle and Mount High;-- The mice that in these mountains dwell, No happier are than I!

Oh, what a joy to clamber there, Oh, what a place for play, With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air, The happy hills of hay!

XL Farewell to the Farm

The coach is at the door at last; The eager children, mounting fast And kissing hands, in chorus sing: Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

To house and garden, field and lawn, The meadow-gates we swang upon, To pump and stable, tree and swing, Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

And fare you well for evermore, O ladder at the hayloft door, O hayloft where the cobwebs cling, Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

Crack goes the whip, and off we go; The trees and houses smaller grow; Last, round the woody turn we sing: Good-bye, good-bye, to everything!

XLI North-West Passage

1. Good-Night

When the bright lamp is carried in, The sunless hours again begin; O'er all without, in field and lane, The haunted night returns again.

Now we behold the embers flee About the firelit hearth; and see Our faces painted as we pass, Like pictures, on the window glass.

Must we to bed indeed? Well then, Let us arise and go like men, And face with an undaunted tread The long black passage up to bed.

Farewell, O brother, sister, sire! O pleasant party round the fire! The songs you sing, the tales you tell, Till far to-morrow, fare you well!

2. Shadow March

All around the house is the jet-black night; It stares through the window-pane; It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light, And it moves with the moving flame.