Poems By a Little Girl Part 4

SIX TO SEVEN YEARS OLD

AUTUMN SONG

I made a ring of leaves On the autumn gra.s.s: 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 gra.s.s!

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.

b.u.t.tERFLY

b.u.t.terfly, 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 b.u.t.terflies 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 . . .

PEAc.o.c.k FEATHERS

On trees of fairyland Grow peac.o.c.k 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 peac.o.c.k feathers From fairy trees.