Part 2

For then, perhaps, I'd fool the moon, Although she's very wise, And thinking me a baby star She'd keep me in the skies.

Dreams

I'd like to dream my own dreams, Instead of dreaming those The silly sandman brings along Like moving picture shows.

I'd like to dream of palaces, Of magic meadowlands, Of silver gates and golden thrones And chanting fairy bands;

Of seas of spraying jewels, Of dancing crystal ships, Of the queen of all the elves herself-- Two rubies for her lips;

But, alas! I never dream such things, And when I jump and wake As an oozy ogre clutches me-- It's just a stomach ache!

Water-Lily

I'd like to be a water-lily sleeping on the river, Where solemn rushes whisper, and funny ripples quiver. All day I'd watch the blue sky--all night I'd watch the black, Floating in the soft waves, dreaming on my back, And when I'd tired of dreaming, I'd call a passing fish, "I want to find the sea!" I'd shout, "Come! You can grant my wish!"

He'd bite me from my moorings, and softly I would slip To the center of the river like an ocean-going ship. The waves would laugh upon me. The wind would blow me fast, And oh, what shores and wonders would greet me as I passed! Yes, if I were a water-lily, I'd sail to sea in state-- A green frog for my captain--and a dragon-fly for mate!

Humor

Have you ever watched the clowns at play, White, red and black on circus day? They're always very, very gay. I wonder how they stay that way!

I'd like to be a clown, Playing tricks around the town, Turning somersaults and springs, As if they were easy things, Laughing morning, noon and night, Being such a funny sight!

Do you think, then, I'd grow tired of fun, Laughing so from sun to sun? Or, when performances are done, Do clown-folk cry like anyone?

Independence

I like to go out in the night When there's neither a sound nor a light, With my hands and feet bare, And the wind in my hair, Not a nurse nor a parent in sight;

But only the night, moon and me As I dance in the dew joyfully, Quite daring and bold For there's no one to scold, Because there is no one to see.

SONGS FOR OUT OF DOORS

A Comparison

Apple blossoms look like snow, They're different, though. Snow falls softly, but it brings Noisy things: Sleighs and bells, forts and fights, Cosy nights.

But apple blossoms when they go, White and slow, Quiet all the orchard space, Till the place Hushed with falling sweetness seems Filled with dreams.

Speculation

I wonder if God sits alone Upon the highest mountain stone To stir the clouds and drop the rain, And then to pick it up again.

I wonder if he sends the brooks Foaming from their distant nooks, And, sitting there in robes of gray, Turns rivers on at break of day.

Parade

The scarlet trumpet flowers are gay And yet they never seem to play, They never trumpet up the dawn Nor blow retreat across the lawn.

But oh, to-day I heard a strain, A happy, martial, quick refrain, As down across the garden grass I saw the marching flowers pass:

Gaudy phlox and flaunting rose, Stiff and straight and on their toes, And, blaring from the garden wall, The trumpet flower led them all.

Flower Preferences