I WISH the clever men who made
The whirly things with patents on,
The telephone and phonograph,
The watch that tells how far you've gone,
Would just invent some bottled sleep
That we could take at night,
And then again when it grows light.
It might keep little boys awake
When there is company.
All I should have to do, would be
To pour a glass of sleep to take.
The things I leave undone,
Because I haven't time enough,
The things I've only half begun—
My castle-house, my doll-queen's ruff—
I'd get quite finished in a day.
I'd have some time left over, too.
I'd have the chance to do new things.
And first of all, I'd learn to play
The games the flowers frolic through,
Each afternoon, and I'd find who
Has charge of yesterday.
I think that made-to-order dreams
Of rainbow-folk and orange-creams
Would be much nicer than the kind
Which on dark nights I always find.
THE RUNAWAY
THERE'S something that is calling me—
Far off from Here—
It calls for me to come and see,
Away from Near.
Sometimes it tinkles like a bell.
Then echo songs above the blue,
And sometimes silver whistles tell
About a shining dream come true.
This call sings low of wonder-worlds.
It tells in runs and soft-blown trills
Of hidden places near that line
Where distance smooths the little hills.
The call is begging me to come.
It makes me dance and sing
Along the meadow road,
Far past the street's dust-ring.
There's something waiting just for me,
And I must go—must go,
Away from houses here, to see,
Where lights begin to glow.
PLAYMATES
TO-DAY I met a rabbit in the path
Who stopped and looked at me,
While I was laughing at a frog
Hop sidewise from a bee.
The little rabbit's eyes laughed too.
He would have like to stay;
And if my clothes had been like his,
He might have come to play.
I wish I had a rabbit dress,
A furry one, from head to toe,
Then I could go away with him
From streets in line, all set just so.
I think my clothes are stupid things
To rob me of my friends,
But then, the kind of playmate clothes
I want, nobody lends!