 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
SWINGING ON A BIRCH-TREE.
Swinging on a birch-tree
To a sleepy tune,
Hummed by all the breezes
In the month of June!
Little leaves a-flutter,
Sound like dancing drops
Of a brook on pebbles;
Song that never stops.
To a sleepy tune,
Hummed by all the breezes
In the month of June!
Little leaves a-flutter,
Sound like dancing drops
Of a brook on pebbles;
Song that never stops.
Up and down we seesaw:
Up into the sky;
How it opens on us,
Like a wide blue eye!
You and I are sailors
Rocking on a mast;
And the world 's our vessel:
Ho! she sails so fast!
Up into the sky;
How it opens on us,
Like a wide blue eye!
You and I are sailors
Rocking on a mast;
And the world 's our vessel:
Ho! she sails so fast!
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Blue, blue sea around us;
Not a ship in sight!
They will hang out lanterns
When they pass, to-night.
We with ours will follow
Through the midnight deep;
Not a thought of danger,
Though the crew 's asleep.
Not a ship in sight!
They will hang out lanterns
When they pass, to-night.
We with ours will follow
Through the midnight deep;
Not a thought of danger,
Though the crew 's asleep.
Oh, how still the air is!
There an oriole flew;
What a jolly whistle!
He 's a sailor, too.
Yonder is his hammock
In the elm-top high:
One more ballad, messmate!
Sing it as you fly!
There an oriole flew;
What a jolly whistle!
He 's a sailor, too.
Yonder is his hammock
In the elm-top high:
One more ballad, messmate!
Sing it as you fly!
Up and down we seesaw;
Down into the grass,
Scented fern, and rosebuds,
All a woven mass.
That 's the sort of carpet
Fitted for our feet!
Tapestry nor velvet
Is so rich and neat.
Down into the grass,
Scented fern, and rosebuds,
All a woven mass.
That 's the sort of carpet
Fitted for our feet!
Tapestry nor velvet
Is so rich and neat.
Swinging on a birch-tree!
This is summer joy,
Fun for all vacation;
Don't you think so, boy?
Up and down to seesaw,
Merry and at ease,
Careless as a brook is,
Idle as the breeze!
This is summer joy,
Fun for all vacation;
Don't you think so, boy?
Up and down to seesaw,
Merry and at ease,
Careless as a brook is,
Idle as the breeze!
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |