GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE
Grandmother’s house is far away.
You take the train and you ride all day,
Till you come to a meadow beside the sea,
As green and still as a place can be.
In a little white room is a little white bed;
The pillow is sweet where you lay your head;
And all around is the scent of rose,
That breathes wherever Grandmother goes.
Down in the meadow the crickets trill
As if they thought it was daytime still;
“Cheep! Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!
Cheepy, cheepy! Cheep! Cheep!”
Oh, how can a body go to sleep?
All alone you lie and hark
To the curious sounds that come in the dark;
For the wall says “Crick!” And the floor goes “Creak!”
Then out in the hall is a rustle and squeak.
A wee voice cries and is still again;
Then Something taps on the window-pane.
There’s a whispering in the tree outside,
And a sigh, that Grandmother says is the tide.
Grandmother’s house is nice by day,
But at night you seem very far away.
And the noise of the quiet is so loud,
It bothers you more than the noise of a crowd.