A Child's Garden of Verses Read online

  Grown to manhood ages since,

  Not a foot in street or house,

  Not a stir of child or mouse,

  And when kindly falls the night,

  In all the town no spark of light.

  There I'll come when I'm a man

  With a camel caravan;

  Light a fire in the gloom

  Of some dusty dining-room;

  See the pictures on the walls,

  Heroes, fights and festivals;

  And in a corner find the toys

  Of the old Egyptian boys.

  SINGING

  Of speckled eggs the birdie sings

  And nests among the trees;

  The sailor sings of ropes and things

  In ships upon the seas.

  The children sing in far Japan,

  The children sing in Spain;

  The organ with the organ man

  Is singing in the rain.

  LOOKING FORWARD

  When I am grown to man's estate

  I shall be very proud and great,

  And tell the other girls and boys

  Not to meddle with my toys.

  A GOOD PLAY

  We built a ship upon the stairs

  All made of the back-bedroom chairs,

  And filled it full of sofa pillows

  To go a-sailing on the billows.

  We took a saw and several nails,

  And water in the nursery pails;

  And Tom said, ‘Let us also take

  An apple and a slice of cake’;

  Which was enough for Tom and me

  To go a-sailing on, till tea.

  We sailed along for days and days,

  And had the very best of plays;

  But Tom fell out and hurt his knee,

  So there was no one left but me.

  WHERE GO THE BOATS?

  Dark brown is the river,

  Golden is the sand.

  It flows along for ever,

  With trees on either hand.

  Green leaves a-floating,

  Castles of the foam,

  Boats of mine a-boating –

  Where will all come home?

  On goes the river

  And out past the mill,

  Away down the valley,

  Away down the hill.

  Away down the river,

  A hundred miles or more,

  Other little children

  Shall bring my boats ashore.

  AUNTIE'S SKIRTS

  Whenever Auntie moves around,

  Her dresses make a curious sound;

  They trail behind her up the floor,

  And trundle after through the door.

  THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE

  When I was sick and lay a-bed,

  I had two pillows at my head,

  And all my toys beside me lay

  To keep me happy all the day.

  And sometimes for an hour or so

  I watched my leaden soldiers go,

  With different uniforms and drills,

  Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;

  And sometimes sent my ships in fleets

  All up and down among the sheets;

  Or brought my trees and houses out,

  And planted cities all about.

  I was the giant great and still

  That sits upon the pillow-hill,

  And sees before him, dale and plain,

  The pleasant land of counterpane.

  THE LAND OF NOD

  From breakfast on all through the day

  At home among my friends I stay;

  But every night I go abroad

  Afar into the land of Nod.

  All by myself I have to go,

  With none to tell me what to do –

  All alone beside the streams

  And up the mountain-sides of dreams.

  The strangest things are there for me,

  Both things to eat and things to see,

  And many frightening sights abroad

  Till morning in the land of Nod.

  Try as I like to find the way,

  I never can get back by day,

  Nor can remember plain and clear

  The curious music that I hear.

  MY SHADOW

  I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,

  And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.

  He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;

  And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

  The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow –

  Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;

  For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,

  And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.

  He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,

  And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.

  He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;

  I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

  One morning, very early, before the sun was up,

  I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;

  But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,

  Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

  SYSTEM

  Every night my prayers I say,

  And get my dinner every day;

  And every day that I've been good,

  I get an orange after food.

  The child that is not clean and neat,

  With lots of toys and things to eat,

  He is a naughty child, I'm sure –

  Or else his dear papa is poor.

  A GOOD BOY

  I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day,

  I never said an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to play.

  And now at last the sun is going down behind the wood,

  And I am very happy, for I know that I've been good.

  My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth and fair,

  And I must off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my prayer.

  I know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun arise,

  No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight my eyes,

  But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn,

  And hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the lawn.

  ESCAPE AT BEDTIME

  The lights from the parlour and kitchen shone out

  Through the blinds and the windows and bars;

  And high overhead and all moving about,

  There were thousands of millions of stars.

  There ne'er were such thousands of leaves on a tree,

  Nor of people in church or the Park,

  As the crowds of the stars that looked down upon me,

  And that glittered and winked in the dark.

  The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all,

  And the star of the sailor, and Mars,

  These shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall

  Would be half full of water and stars.

  They saw me at last, and they chased me with cries,

  And they soon had me packed into bed;

  But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes,

  And the stars going round in my head.

  MARCHING SONG

  Bring the comb and play upon it!

  Marching, here we come!

  Willie cocks his highland bonnet,

  Johnnie beats the drum.

  Mary Jane commands the party,

  Peter leads the rear;

  Feet in time, alert and hearty,

  Each a Grenadier!

  All in the most martial manner

  Marching double-quick;

  While the napkin like a banner

  Waves upon the stick!

  THE COW

  The friendly cow, all red and white,

  I love with all my heart:
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  She gives me cream with all her might,

  To eat with apple-tart.

  She wanders lowing here and there,

  And yet she cannot stray,

  All in the pleasant open air,

  The pleasant light of day;

  And blown by all the winds that pass

  And wet with all the showers,

  She walks among the meadow grass

  And eats the meadow flowers.

  HAPPY THOUGHT

  The world is so full

  of a number of things,

  I'm sure we should all

  be as happy as kings.

  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!

  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 the 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 from the Indies, and home from the ocean,

  Heroes and soldiers we all shall 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.

  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 to 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.

  FOREIGN CHILDREN

  Little Indian, Sioux or Crow,

  Little frosty Eskimo,

  Little Turk or Japanee,

  O! 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 beyond the foam,

  But I am safe and live at home.

  Little Indian, Sioux or Crow,

  Little frosty Eskimo,

  Little Turk or Japanee,

  O! don't you wish that you were me?

  THE SUN'S TRAVELS

  The sun is not a-bed when I

  At night upon my pillow lie;

  Still round the earth his way he takes,

  And morning after morning makes.

  While here at home, in shining day,

  We round the sunny garden play,

  Each little Indian sleepy-head

  Is being kissed and put to bed.

  And when at eve I rise from tea,

  Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea,

  And all the children in the West

  Are getting up and being dressed.

  THE LAMPLIGHTER

  My tea is nearly ready

  and the sun has left the sky;

  It's time to take the window

  to see Leerie going by;

  For every night at tea-time

  and before you take your seat,

  With lantern and with ladder

  he comes posting up the street.

  Now Tom would be a driver

  and Maria go to sea,

  And my papa's a banker

  and as rich as he can be;

  But I, when I am stronger

  and can choose what I'm to do,

  O Leerie, I'll go round at night

  and light the lamps with you!

  For we are very lucky,

  with a lamp before the door,

  And Leerie stops to light it

  as he lights so many more;

  And O! before you hurry by

  with ladder and with light,

  O Leerie, see a little child

  and nod to him to-night!

  MY BED IS A BOAT

  My bed is like a little boat;

  Nurse helps me when I embark;

  She girds me in my sailor's coat

  And starts me in the dark.

  At night, I go on board and say

  Good-night to all my friends on shore;

  I shut my eyes and sail away

  And see and hear no more.

  And sometimes things to bed I take,

  As prudent sailors have to do;

  Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake,

  Perhaps a toy or two.

  All night across the dark we steer:

  But when the day returns at last,

  Safe in my room, beside the pier,

  I find my vessel fast.

  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 rise.

  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,

&
nbsp; Till I can see so wide,

  Rivers 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!

  TIME TO RISE

  A birdie with a yellow bill

  Hopped upon the window sill.

  Cocked his shining eye and said:

  ‘Ain't you' shamed, you sleepy-head?’

  LOOKING-GLASS RIVER

  Smooth it slides 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 coloured faces

  Floating on the shaken pool

  Down in the 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!