III
MY KINGDOM
DOWN by a shining water well I found a very little dell, No higher than my head.
The heather and the gorse about In summer bloom were coming out, Some yellow and some red.
I called the little pool a sea; The little hills were big to me; For I am very small.
I made a boat, I made a town, I searched the caverns up and down, And named them one and all.
And all about was mine, I said, The little sparrows overhead, The little minnows too.
This was the world and I was king; For me the bees came by to sing, For me the swallows flew.
I played there were no deeper seas, Nor any wider plains than these, Nor other kings than me.
At last I heard my mother call Out from the house at evenfall, To call me home to tea.
And I must rise and leave my dell, And leave my dimpled water well, And leave my heather blooms.
Alas! and as my home I neared, How very big my nurse appeared, How great and cool the rooms!
IV
PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER
SUMMER fading, winter comes-- Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, Window robins, winter rooks, And the picture story-books.
Water now is turned to stone Nurse and I can walk upon; Still we find the flowing brooks In the picture story-books.
All the pretty things put by, Wait upon the children"s eye, Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks, In the picture story-books.
We may see how all things are, Seas and cities, near and far, And the flying fairies" looks, In the picture story-books.
How am I to sing your praise, Happy chimney-corner days, Sitting safe in nursery nooks, Reading picture story-books?
V
MY TREASURES
THESE nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest Where all my lead soldiers are lying at rest, Were gathered in autumn by nursie and me In a wood with a well by the side of the sea.
This whistle we made (and how clearly it sounds!) By the side of a field at the end of the grounds.
Of a branch of a plane, with a knife of my own, It was nursie who made it, and nursie alone!
The stone, with the white and the yellow and grey, We discovered I cannot tell _how_ far away; And I carried it back although weary and cold, For though father denies it, I"m sure it is gold.
But of all of my treasures the last is the king, For there"s very few children possess such a thing; And that is a chisel, both handle and blade, Which a man who was really a carpenter made.
VI
BLOCK CITY
WHAT are you able to build with your blocks?
Castles and palaces, temples and docks.
Rain may keep raining, and others go roam, But I can be happy and building at home.
Let the sofa be mountains, the carpet be sea, There I"ll establish a city for me: A kirk and a mill and a palace beside, And a harbour as well where my vessels may ride.
Great is the palace with pillar and wall, A sort of a tower on the top of it all, And steps coming down in an orderly way To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.
This one is sailing and that one is moored: Hark to the song of the sailors on board!
And see on the steps of my palace, the kings Coming and going with presents and things!
Now I have done with it, down let it go!
All in a moment the town is laid low.
Block upon block lying scattered and free, What is there left of my town by the sea?
Yet as I saw it, I see it again, The kirk and the palace, the ships and the men, And as long as I live and where"er I may be, I"ll always remember my town by the sea.
VII
THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS
AT evening when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing, And do not play at anything.
Now, with my little gun, I crawl All in the dark along the wall, And follow round the forest track Away behind the sofa back.
There, in the night, where none can spy, All in my hunter"s camp I lie, And play at books that I have read Till it is time to go to bed.
These are the hills, these are the woods, These are my starry solitudes; And there the river by whose brink The roaring lions come to drink.
I see the others far away As if in firelit camp they lay, And I, like to an Indian scout, Around their party prowled about.