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A Child's Garden of Verses

Chapter 31: KEEPSAKE MILL
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About This Book

A collection of short lyrical poems that evoke everyday experiences and imaginings of childhood: play, bedtime, gardens, seaside journeys, swings, small boats, moonlit nights, and seasonal chores. Many pieces adopt a child's voice or perspective, blending domestic detail with flights of fancy and gentle personification. The poems favor sensory imagery, clear rhythms, and compact narrative snapshots rather than long plots. Recurring themes include imagination and memory, the border between wakefulness and sleep, and the comforting routines of home, expressed in tones that shift from playful to quietly reflective.

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.
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!

THE LITTLE LAND

When at home alone I sit
And am very tired of it,
I have just to shut my eyes
To go sailing through the skies—
To go sailing far away
To the pleasant Land of Play;
To the fairy land afar
Where the Little People are;
Where the clover-tops are trees,
And the rain-pools are the seas,
And the leaves like little ships
Sail about on tiny trips;
And above the daisy tree
Through the grasses,
High o'erhead the Bumble Bee
Hums and passes.

In that forest to and fro
I can wander, I can go;
See the spider and the fly,
And the ants go marching by
Carrying parcels with their feet
Down the green and grassy street.
I can in the sorrel sit
Where the lady-bird alit.
I can climb the jointed grass
And on high
See the greater swallows pass
In the sky.
And the round sun rolling by
Heeding no such things as I.
Through that forest I can pass
Till, as in a looking-glass,
Humming fly and daisy tree
And my tiny self I see,
Painted very clear and neat
On the rain-pool at my feet.
Should a leaflet come to land
Drifting near to where I stand,
Straight I'll board that tiny boat
Round the rain-pool sea to float.

Little thoughtful creatures sit
On the grassy coasts of it;
Little things with lovely eyes
See me sailing with surprise.
Some are clad in armor green—
(These have sure to battle been!)
Some are pied with ev'ry hue,
Black and crimson, green and blue;
Some have wings and swift are gone;—
But they all look kindly on.
When my eyes I once again
Open, and see all things plain:
High bare walls, great bare floor;
Great big knobs on drawer and door;
Great big people perched on chairs,
Stitching tucks and mending tears,
Each a hill that I could climb,
And talking nonsense all the time—
O dear me,
That I could be
A sailor on the rain-pool sea,
A climber on the clover tree,
And just come back, a sleepy head,
Late at night to go to bed.

NIGHT AND DAY

When the golden day is done,
Through the closing portal,
Child and garden, flower and sun,
Vanish all things mortal.
As the blinding shadows fall
As the rays diminish,
Under evening's cloak, they all
Roll away and vanish.
Garden darkened, daisy shut,
Child in bed, they slumber—
Glow-worm in the highway rut,
Mice among the lumber.
In the darkness houses shine,
Parents move with candles;
Till on all, the night divine
Turns the bedroom handles.
In the darkness shapes of things,
Houses, trees and hedges,
Clearer grow; and sparrow's wings
Beat on window ledges.
These shall wake the yawning maid;
She the door shall open—
Finding dew on garden glade
And the morning broken.
There my garden grows again
Green and rosy painted,
As at eve behind the pane
From my eyes it fainted.
Just as it was shut away,
Toy-like in the even,
Here I see it glow with day
Under glowing heaven.
Every path and every plot,
Every bush of roses,
Every blue forget-me-not
Where the sun reposes,
"Up!" they cry, "the day is come
On the shining valleys:
We have beat the morning drum;
Playmates, join your allies!"