Part 11

The next day I found him happy, Quite out, Looking about the world. The wind blew sweet airs, Carried away his perfume in the sun; And near by swung a new flower Uncurling its hands . . . He was not thoughtful Any more!

WEATHER

Weather is the answer When I can't go out into flowery places; Weather is my wonder About the kind of morning Hidden behind the hills of sky.

SUMMER-DAY SONG

Wild birds fly over me. I am not the blue curtain overhead, I am the one who lives under the sky. I swing to the tree-tops, I pick strawberries, I sing and play, And happiness makes me like a great god On the earth. It makes me think of great things A little girl like me Could not know of.

PINK ROSE-PETALS

Pink rose-petals Fluttering down in hosts, I know what you mean Sometimes, in Spring. It is love you mean.

Love has a gray bird That flutters down; A dove that comes flying Saying the same thing.

How happy it makes me to think of it, Rose-petals . . . the gray dove . . .

THE LONESOME GREEN APPLE

There was a little green apple That had lasted over winter. He had one leaf . . . In spite of that he was lonesome. He wondered what he could do When the blossoms were all around him, But one day he saw something! Petals were falling, faces were looking out, Shapes like his were coming in the buds; Then he said: "If I hold on There will be a tree-full, and I shall know more than any of them!"

I AM

I am willowy boughs For coolness; I am gold-finch wings For darkness; I am a little grape Thinking of September, I am a very small violet Thinking of May.

MUSHROOM SONG

Oh little mushrooms with brown faces underneath And bare white heads, You think of summer and you think of song . . . Why don't you think of me In my little white bed In the night? You think only of your singsong and your dances, Following your leader round and round, You think only of the grass And the green apples and leaves Dropping out of the blue . . . Why don't you think of me asleep In my little white bed? The wind thinks of me, Brown-white dancers! You forget, But the wind remembers.

THE APPLE-JELLY-FISH-TREE

Down in the depths of the sea Grew the Apple-Jelly-Fish-Tree. It was named by a queer old robber And his mates three.

I watched it for a second, I watched it for a day. It did not change color For its colors stay.

It was as red, as yellow, as white, as blue As gold and stones with the light through!

I watched it long and long Till a flying sunfish Swam through its branches. He had opal wings And a sapphire tail.

No wonder robbers like to stay Where fish so shining come to play!

THREE LOVES

Angel-love, Fairy-love, Wave-love, Which will you choose? Angel-love . . . golden-yellow and far white . . . Fairy-love . . . golden yellow and green . . . Wave-love . . . scarlet and azure blue . . . Which will you choose?

I will keep them in a box Locked with a twisted key. I will give them to people who need love, I will let them choose. Fairy-love blows away like leaves. Angels I know little about. For myself I choose wave-love Because of the wind and the sea and my heart.

THE FIELD OF WONDER

What could be more wonderful Than the place where I walk sometimes? Swaying like trees in rain . . . Swaying like trees in sunshine When breezes stir nothing but happiness . . . What could be more lovely? I walk in the Field of Wonder Where colors come to be; I stare at the sky . . . I feel myself lifting on the wind As the swallows lift and blow upward . . . I see colors fade out, they die away . . . I blow across a cloud . . . I am lifted . . . How can I change again into a little girl When wings are in my feeling of gladness? This is strange to know On a summer day at noon, This is a wild new joy When summer is over. The scarlet of three maple trees Will guide me home, Oh mother my dear! Fear nothing: I will come home Before snow falls!

MOON DOVES

The moon has a dove-cote safe and small, Hid in the velvet sky: The doves are her companions sweet; She has no others. Moon doves on the wing are white As a valley of stars, When they fly, there is shining Like a golden river. I see so many whirling away and away, How can they get home again? The moon is calm and never wears an anxious look, She goes on smiling. I hear so many doves along the sky How will her dove-cote hold them? The moon says not one word to me; She lets me wonder.