Children’s Poems
Reading edition
Alice Oliver Henderson, eight-year-old poet, wrote the following five poems when she was only seven. Her method is to chant them to her mother, Alice Corbin Henderson, who takes them down exactly as they are dictated. Mrs. Henderson thinks their interest lies in the fact that they are the expression of a child’s mind, and so she refuses to change or “improve” them. Besides, it might be difficult to “improve” such lines as “The moon shines against my heart”.... The other poems in the group were written by Percy Mackaye’s children—Arvia’s at the age of ten, and Robin’s at twelve. Mr. Mackaye says that his daughter’s were done while it was still difficult for her to read or write, but that she has always been read aloud to and has learned considerable poetry by heart.
A Mountain of Fire
There was a mountain made of fire, Far in the sea— It was very nice to everybody that lived in that world. Right over in Japan, it was. Where there are very good fighters and painters, And very good little children, And very good minders in that world.
Kathleen
(after seeing Kathleen ni Houlihan)
She looked very, very old when she came in. The mother and the father that were in the house. Had one brother in the house, The other one had gone out And got all the England people away For Kathleen, For Kathleen, And then said, He shall be remembered forever. She was a young woman when she went out, And she sang when she went out the door. The moon shines at night When all are in bed, And the dear little birdies sing for you In the morning time to wake you sure. How lovely the day is— The moon shines against my heart— I love the sweetness of the sky. The beautiful day comes every morning true.
Miss Ungerich’s Japanese Play
Eyes all blackened, lips made beautiful, Lavender under, then red over for the costume, Acted wonderfully with her hands fixed all the time, Bare feet, then on to the floor, She made a thing that was beautiful. Next was a man with a sword, He acted the same way with her face. Brown—gold costume, then a hat she wore, Then a sort of stick-sword; Then she did moving of hands and killing. She was pretending, but there was only one actor, Miss Ungerich.
The Snow Flakes
In the winter I saw the loveliest sky that you ever saw. It was blue and pink and yellow and orange and white and black and grey. That was the colors of the sky. It pleased me so that I went and sat down. You must think of life and the poor that war makes. Done by Alice Oliver Henderson, Miss.
Fire Castles
Fast falling rain and every hill in mist Make even my very saddest thoughts grow sadder, And every sad thought lengthens my long list, As, moaning over old things that make me madder, I sit and sulk over some unkind word And weep as if I had not wept before, And think of words about me I have heard, And with old thoughts grieve over them some more. But soon, if I get up, or sit and gaze, Telling myself stories of joyous thought Before the warm and cheery, singing blaze, Now all my bad thoughts in a trap are caught; And if I gaze at castles in the fire, Then all the while to gladness I grow nigher.
The Unknown Race
O dream, what are you?— A fairy or a sprite, A goddess in the air, Or just a flash of light? A sudden flash of joy That brightens up my mind, Till wonders I see now Where first I was so blind.
Zephyr
Zephyr—Zephyr—Zephyr! Blow on, blow hard Over hill and over dale! O play in the green trees, leave nothing marred: O blow—O blow—O blow a gale! Zephyr—Zephyr—Zephyr! Play on, play long! Play and sing in tops of trees, And brush the valley’s airy green hair strong; Dip your head, diving down the leas! Zephyr—Zephyr—Zephyr, Like a little heifer, Frolic and lie In the field of the sky! Good-bye, good-bye! Frolic and turn and lie! Arvia Mackaye.
The Swimming Pool
O! crystal-clear, transparent water, The cool wind is thy joyous daughter. As I glide through thee, quick and sleek— Oh thou so quiet and so meek!— I feel thy ripples lapping free, And thou dost lie so near to me I see my figure on thy face, Entwined in shadows, linked like lace. Oh! what art thou? what canst thou be, That dost reflect my visage unto me? I know not what thou seemest to another, But thou to me art as a brother.
To a Turtle
O gallant knight in armour black Blotched with grey and yellow squares, A horny motto’s on thy breast: Bravery it bears. O turtle, paddling through the grass That skirts the cobwebbed shining lawn! Come tell me true: where journey you This dewy dawn? I smell a pond, and in it are Young tadpoles, newly hatched and fresh, And larvas of mosquitoes plump And sweet of flesh; And whirligigs, that streak and dart Like water-lightning underneath The greenish cat-tail spears, that shade The frogspit heath. And there is oozy, deep, soft mud For me to lie and bask upon, And dine on lizards fat, and sleek Chameleon. And there the bright-green, freckled frog My only friend will always be. To him I haste:—To you I bend My jointless knee. Robin Mackaye.