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From: A Child's Garden of Verses

My first introduction to poetry. Given to me by my Uncle Fran.

The Swing
by
Robert Lewis Stevenson

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside---

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown---
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

Good afternoon Ms. Feather.

Meadowsweet

Through grass, through amber'd cornfields, our slow Stream--
Fringed with its flags and reeds and rushes tall,
And Meadowsweet, the chosen of them all
By wandering children, yellow as the cream
Of those great cows--winds on as in a dream
By mill and footbridge, hamlet old and small
(Red roofs, gray tower), and sees the sunset gleam
On mullion'd windows of an ivied Hall.

There, once upon a time, the heavy King
Trod out its perfume from the Meadowsweet,
Strown like a woman's love beneath his feet,
In stately dance or jovial banqueting,
When all was new; and in its wayfaring
Our Streamlet curved, as now, through grass and wheat.

by William Allingham

Orchestra In My Yard

The orchestra is tuning up
The strings are tight, the reed is rightThe show is underway.
"The baby figs have come,the baby figs have come,
And the baby paw-paws too."
Peeking from beneath the bark,
But knowing what to do.
The fig, a tiny air balloon,
Its leaves, green bandana.
The paw-paw looks for all the world,
Panicled bananas.
I've checked them all-peaches and plums,
And apple blossoms too
Oriental pears and plums,
All to give their fruit.
I'm having trouble with the grape.
But, confessions seem in order.
I didn't weed them like I should.
Thinking they'd been martered.
This year has been our floral best.
Lily, ginger, rose.
Amaryllis strutted all their stuff,
Are now near in repose.
Johnny jumpups croud the edges,
And spring up in the yard.
A tiny flower they may be,
I'm always on my guard.
To miss them with the mow machine,
When I mow the yard.
So now the orchestra is all tuned.
A finale to be grand.
The mighty daylily to win the day.
And I sit and wring my hands.
I sit amazed, these lives to be.
Allowed to witness chemistry,
Going on inside the leaves, inside the bud, inside the tree.
The soil's the same and the beauty's free.
As God mixes his concoctions with all His Glory be.