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Poems of childhood

Chapter 95: SEEIN’ THINGS
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About This Book

A collection of short lyrical poems written for and about children, blending playful nonsense, gentle lullabies, and nostalgic reminiscence. Many pieces evoke bedtime and nursery scenes, give voice to toys and animals, or imagine voyages and fairylike adventures, mixing humor with a tender melancholy. Several poems adapt or echo folk-song material, while others are brief narrative or character sketches that vary in meter and mood. Overall the verses create an intimate domestic atmosphere, inviting readers into childlike wonder through simple rhythms, vivid small-scale imagery, and affectionate observation.

SEEIN’ THINGS

I ain’t afeard uv snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice,
An’ things ’at girls are skeered uv I think are awful nice!
I’m pretty brave, I guess; an’ yet I hate to go to bed,
For, when I’m tucked up warm an’ snug an’ when my prayers are said,
Mother tells me “Happy dreams!” and takes away the light,
An’ leaves me lyin’ all alone an’ seein’ things at night!
Sometimes they’re in the corner, sometimes they’re by the door,
Sometimes they’re all a-standin in the middle uv the floor;
Sometimes they are a-sittin’ down, sometimes they’re walkin’ round
So softly an’ so creepylike they never make a sound!
Sometimes they are as black as ink, an’ other times they’re white—
But the color ain’t no difference when you see things at night!
Once, when I licked a feller ’at had just moved on our street,
An’ father sent me up to bed without a bite to eat,
I woke up in the dark an’ saw things standin’ in a row,
A-lookin’ at me cross-eyed an’ p’intin’ at me—so!
Oh, my! I wuz so skeered that time I never slep’ a mite—
It’s almost alluz when I’m bad I see things at night!
Lucky thing I ain’t a girl, or I’d be skeered to death!
Bein’ I’m a boy, I duck my head an’ hold my breath;
An’ I am, oh! so sorry I’m a naughty boy, an’ then
I promise to be better an’ I say my prayers again!
Gran’ma tells me that’s the only way to make it right
When a feller has been wicked an’ sees things at night!
An’ so, when other naughty boys would coax me into sin,
I try to skwush the Tempter’s voice ’at urges me within;
An’ when they’s pie for supper, or cakes ’at’s big an’ nice,
I want to—but I do not pass my plate f’r them things twice!
No, ruther let Starvation wipe me slowly out o’ sight
Than I should keep a-livin’ on an’ seein’ things at night!
Seein’ Things