Part 14

"Up!" they cry, "the day is come On the smiling valleys: We have beat the morning drum; Playmate, join your allies!"

NEST EGGS

Birds all the sunny day Flutter and quarrel Here in the arbour-like Tent of the laurel.

Here in the fork The brown nest is seated; Four little blue eggs The mother keeps heated.

While we stand watching her Staring like gabies, Safe in each egg are the Bird's little babies.

Soon the frail eggs they shall Chip, and upspringing Make all the April woods Merry with singing.

Younger than we are, O children, and frailer, Soon in blue air they'll be, Singer and sailor.

We, so much older, Taller and stronger, We shall look down on the Birdies no longer.

They shall go flying With musical speeches High over head in the Tops of the beeches.

In spite of our wisdom And sensible talking, We on our feet must go Plodding and walking.

THE FLOWERS

All the names I know from nurse: Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse, Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock, And the Lady Hollyhock.

Fairy places, fairy things, Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, Tiny trees for tiny dames-- These must all be fairy names!

Tiny woods below whose boughs Shady fairies weave a house; Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme, Where the braver fairies climb!

Fair are grown-up people's trees, But the fairest woods are these; Where, if I were not so tall, I should live for good and all.

SUMMER SUN

Great is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven without repose; And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull To keep the shady parlour cool, Yet he will find a chink or two To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic spider-clad He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; And through the broken edge of tiles Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around He bares to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivy's inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue, Round the bright air with footing true, To please the child, to paint the rose, The gardener of the World, he goes.

THE DUMB SOLDIER

When the grass was closely mown, Walking on the lawn alone, In the turf a hole I found, And hid a soldier underground.

Spring and daisies came apace; Grasses hide my hiding place; Grasses run like a green sea O'er the lawn up to my knee.

Under grass alone he lies, Looking up with leaden eyes, Scarlet coat and pointed gun, To the stars and to the sun.

When the grass is ripe like grain, When the scythe is stoned again, When the lawn is shaven clear, Then my hole shall reappear.

I shall find him, never fear, I shall find my grenadier; But for all that's gone and come, I shall find my soldier dumb.

He has lived, a little thing, In the grassy woods of spring; Done, if he could tell me true, Just as I should like to do.