Poems By a Little Girl Part 7

(Made for the picture on the jacket of the Norwegian book, The Great Hunger, by Johan Bojer)

I

THE ROLLING IN OF THE WAVE

It was night when the sky was dark blue And the water came in with a wavy look Like a spider's web.

The point of the slope came down to the water's edge; It was green with a fairy ring of forget-me-not and fern.

The white foam licked the side of the slope As it came up and bent backward; It curled up like a beautiful cinder-tree Bending in the wind.

II

THE COMING OF THE GREAT BIRD

A boy was watching the water As it came lapping the edge of fern.

Little s.h.i.+ps pa.s.sed him As the moon came leaning across dark blue rays of light.

The spruce trees saw the white s.h.i.+ps sailing away, And the moon bending up the blue sky Where stars were twinkling like fairy lamps; The boy was looking toward foreign lands As the s.h.i.+ps pa.s.sed, Their white sails glittering in the moonlight.

He was thinking how he wished to see Foreign lands, strange people, When suddenly a bird came flying!

It swooped down upon the slope And spoke to him: "Do you want to go across the deep blue sea?

Get on my back; I will take you."

"Oh," cried the little boy, "who sent you?

Who knew my thoughts of foreign lands?"

III

THE ISLAND

They flew as the night-wind flowed, very softly, They heard sweet singing that the water sang, They came to a place where the sea was shallow And saw treasure hidden there.

There was one poplar tree On the lonely island, Swaying for sadness.

The clouds went over their heads Like a fleet of drifting s.h.i.+ps.

And there they sank down out of the air Into the dream.

THE DEW-LIGHT

The Dew-man comes over the mountains wide, Over the deserts of sand, With his bag of clear drops And his brush of feathers.

He scatters brightness.

The white bunnies beg him for dew.

He sprinkles their fur, They shake themselves.

All the time he is singing The unknown world is beautiful!

He polishes flowers, Humming "Oh, beautiful!"

He sings in the soft light That grows out of the dew, Out of the misty dew-light that leans over him He makes his song . . .

It is beautiful, the unknown world!

YELLOW SUMMER-THROAT

Yellow summer-throat sat singing In a bending spray of willow tree.

Thin fine green-y lines on his throat, The ruffled outside of his throat, Trembled when he sang.

He kept saying the same thing; The willow did not mind.

I knew what he said, I knew, But how can I tell you?

I have to watch the willow bend in the wind.

PEGASUS

Come dear Pegasus, I said, Let me ride on your back; I have often seen your shadow in the glittering creek; Pegasus, beautiful Pegasus, Let me sit on your back!

He was away, But I was on his back, So I went with him.

We had a castle in a mountain cloud.

So quickly was he away, I had no time to look or speak!

That was the last I saw of father or mother.

We went far from the s.h.i.+ning creek, Farther than I know how to tell you: It was good-by.

VENICE BRIDGE

For a painting

Away back in an old city I saw a bridge.

That bridge belonged to Venice.

It was to the rainbow clear It traveled, Over an old ca.n.a.l.

You had to pa.s.s a cloudy gate To reach the color . . .

Bridges do sometimes begin on the earth And end in the sky.