j Vf— • \ >V.".- -.-' >^J^ Class _rE3_2u5i£L Book O ■*?>£, \ ,fT COPXRIGHT DEPOSm THE LITTLE GOD Child Verse for Grown-ups BY KATHARINE HOWARD Author of "The Book of the Serpent," Eve," * 'Candle Flame," Poems," etc. With illustrations by the author BOSTON SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 1916 sV*. Copyright, 1916 Sherman, French & Company Entered at Stationers' Hall Foreign Rights Reserved Translation Rights Reserved ©CI.A438226 / TO THE POETRY SOCIETY OF AMERICA IN TRUST FOR THE LITTLE GODS OF THE FUTURE PART I THE LITTLE GOD Mother says there's a little god Lives in my garden. I asked her — "In the tree?" — I asked her — "In the fountain?" And she said, yes, that she, Plain as plain could be, Everywhere could see The little god. "What's he look like, mother?" "Oh," she said, "like the flowers, Like the summer showers, Like the morning dew, — Like you." She says he's everywhere In my garden — I can't see him there. THE APPLE SEED Once a little girl planted An apple seed — Mother did it; Now it is a tall tree. I wonder how tall I'll grow When I'm as big as I can be — Perhaps I'll have to be planted, too, Before I can reach high, Way up into the blue, Clear up into the sky. VIOLETS I just ate six violets, 'Cause they tasted good; I hope they understood. I hope they know It was because I love them so. I've been wondering how The taste gets in; I've been wondering how The smell gets out. Mother says I've worn her out Asking why and what it's all about; She said I'd understand sometime, — I'll be told when I'm enough old. n^Cv PUSSY WILLOW Willow, willow, pussy willow! Are you growing kitten tails? Willow, willow, kitten willow! Come closer on my pillow Till I see what you are made of. Are you going to be a cat-tail by the brook? Let me pull your fur to pieces, let me look. Willow, willow, kitten willow! Mother put you on the pillow by my head 'Cause I can't get up to-day; So you have come to play. 'Cause I ate too many flowers, Now I have to pass the hours, Like them, in bed — That's what mother said. Willow, willow, pussy willow! Come closer on my pillow. CROCUSES Crocuses are jolly little things; They never mind the weather. I like to call them little cusses, But mother fusses. In my garden there's a lot of them together, — Poked their heads out of the dirt And laughed at the bad weather, — Laughed all together; Double ones and single, Such a jolly crowd! I forgot and said out loud, "Cunning little cusses," — And mother fusses. THE WORM When I was first begun I crept like a worm. 'Twas fun, — I can't remember, but I guess 'twas fun. They have a lot of creepers — more than I ; I wonder why. When they grow up they'll get ahead, — They have such lots of creepers. Mother said they creep slow 'Cause they've a long way to go. I love to see them squirm; I wish I could remember When I was just a worm. THE SUNBEAM Sometimes When the sun shines In my window about bedtime It makes a golden road Down to the floor. I like to kneel there And say my prayer Sunset time, — about seven, When things are going home. It must lead straight into the sun For sunbeams to run home on When the day is done. A CHANGE OF WEATHER My violets are cross with me; They have a look that seems to say, "Go away! we don't want to play." I just yelled at them, "You're queer!" And they pretended not to hear. Bad tempers, I suppose; Mother said, "Yes, why not?" She said they knew What they were about. They wanted the sky blue, And the sun to come out, — And the sun did. He laughed and so did they; There was a changed weather, And we all laughed together. THE MIZ There's lots of things that grown-ups Can't seem to understand. They don't know much about the Miz ; I know: it's neither sea nor land; It's where the things are made; It's the Beginnings' place. I often go there in the night; The sand man sits upon my face So I can't see them, quite. They squirm about an awful lot, For most of them are tails; Some look like inky spread-out blots, And some may grow to whales. I talked to Daddy of the Miz. He says there's no such place, But I just know there is. It's in the Bible, too; It's on the page, "Thou shalt not steal." It tells about the sea and all that in the Miz. So when he says there's no such place, Why, I just know there is. I WONDER Oh, dear! I wonder lots of things About the words the Bluebird sings, He swings and swings on the trees, Or perhaps it's the breeze Swings him. Oh, dear! I wonder everything, — If it's just happiness they sing. Then perhaps birds have no Need of words; They have wings and we have words. I RAN AWAY I ran away. I climbed the garden wall, And ran into the day; It was so big and wide I couldn't play. I don't know why, But I was quite afraid, — Just God and I Alone in the daylight. I was afraid He couldn't See me from the sky, I felt so small. I couldn't play at all. The wild flowers Were different from ours. And then, some way or other, I grew afraid of God, — I wanted Mother. THE AWFULLEST THISTLES Theophilus Thistle and his mate Are standing guard outside the gate. IN MY GARDEN There's a great, big, striped peony In my garden, With her leaves all smooth and sheeny; She's the mother of them all. There's a larkspur, blue and tall, Standing close against the wall, — Seems as if she's reaching up Toward the sky. Soon she'll be as tall as I ; Maybe because she's blue Like the sky She wants to go to heaven too. MY FOUNTAIN The birds bathe in my fountain. They say, "Tweet, tweet," And get in with their feet. — Lots of things a boy can't do 'Cause mother's 'fraid. Once I was in the garden night-time, And I saw a star — by moon-shine; It had come from far and high, Away up in the sky, To bathe in my fountain. I stirred the water with a stick And made some splashes, And then the star broke all to bits In little flashes; — I reached pretty far Trying to poke that star. Something mother's made of Makes her very 'fraid of Things I do. THE ROSE This morning when I came awake, There was a rose in full bloom Looking right in my window. I knew her when she was a bud Just the other day; Now she is a rose, come to stay Until her leaves fall off. When they're all off She'll go away. She won't be a rose — But she'll return, she knows. She won't go far, And I'll save her leaves In my rose jar. THE HONEY BEE I picked a honey bee. He must have thought I was a flower, 'Cause he stuck himself in me. I didn't cry — I just screamed — Oh, it seemed an hour Till Mother came. I made an awful row, — But I'm all well now. He was a silly bee, Trying to get honey out of me. I know: he heard Mother Call me honey, and he thought He'd see. THE POBLUM I heard Daddy say— talking to Mother — he said, "Life's a poblum — wonder if We'll know when we're dead." Funny the way these grown-ups talk: Other day he took me for a walk, — Buttercups and butterflies in the field Everywhere. Daddy said, "This day is very fair." I said, "Life's a poblum — Wonder if we'll know when We're dead." And Daddy said, quite cross, "That's enough — Where'd you hear such stuff?" I didn't dare to ask, but I'll find out some day — What is a poblum, anyway. TAGS The gardener put tags on my flowers: "Labels," he said. — I took them off. Mother doesn't know what got into my head; 1 acted like a wildflower, she said. I don't know, — I didn't like them, so — I took them off. I'm not to do so any more: I've promised — 'cause I tore Them all first go. We don't like tags, the flowers and me, — - We like to be All free and free, My flowers and me. GROWING UP Once, when I was very little, More than a year ago, I heard some roses singing, — Else I dreamed it, I don't know. Mother says they're singing now, But I don't hear — Makes me wonder which is real: Dreams or daytimes. More than a year — A year's so long, I think, — Such a long ways to go in hours. I wish I could be done new each year, Same as my flowers. FLOWER OR WEED One day I peeked into a seed, — I worried fear it was a weed. I couldn't see the leastest tiny mite, And mother said the fault was with My sight. "Listen!" she said. "Now do you hear An angel sing? Now do you hear the flutter of a wing?" I couldn't hear a single thing — Although I do sometimes. She said the fault was with my ears, And I just bursted into tears. SWEET PEAS Oh! my sweet peas are out, All the whole row — Looks like a rainbow! I wonder if they know What they're about. It's such a chilly day, and showers Kind of hard on new flowers. They look like humming-birds Perching along a twig, — All sorts of ones, little and big. Only they don't whir Like humming-birds and bees; They don't stir Unless the wind shakes them — 'Cause they're my sweet peas. IVe been thinking perhaps they were birds And got so attached and clinging They forgot singing, And so at last they got catched To the sweet-pea vine, 'Course, it's why their leaves Look like wings: — When I think hard it's easy To explain things. MY RAMBLER ROSE My rambler rose climbs In the night. I watch all day and she stays still, But in the night she grows. You see, she is a rambling rose. I wish she'd ramble in the day. Sometimes I hardly move away, I want so much to see her climb. I think maybe she will sometime — I care so much that, when she knows, She'll let me watch her while she grows,- My rambler rose. DADDY ROSE IVe hunted all the morning To find a daddy rose. The red rose has a secret: There's something sweet she knows; She told it to a honey bee, — I wish that she'd tell me. I know! I know! I watched, and now I know The secret of the rose. I know and the bee knows, — There isn't any daddy rose. He was a daddy bee, And the red rose and he Have made a butterfly, — I saw it in the sky. THE DRAGON-FLY To-day I saw a dragon-fly, — Blue as the sky And sort of purple ; I think he is a flower with wings, Such bright whizzy things, — Seems as if he sings When he flies. Perhaps he's growing to a bird. Mother says, "There's no knowing,- Everything's on the way." — Perhaps I'll be a bird some day. GETTING MISTOOK Toadstools are wicked, Mushrooms are good, — And yet they look the same : I guess it's so with me, — Hard telling me apart When I am good from when I'm bad. Some things are wild, some things are tame, And look almost the same: I guess it's easy to get mistook By way things look. It's easy to tell wrong from right 'Cept some person interferes, — Something inside of me that no one hears tells me, But then that person says, "Oh, no— That isn't right, — that isn't so." I don't think it's very much That persons know. BUTTERFLIES I dance with butterflies, They dance with me; They fly from flowers to flowers All of the day-time hours. I wonder if they dance at night, — I cannot see them by starlight ; Perhaps they go to dream upon a star, Their wings can fly so far. Once I had wings, because I fly in dreams; And so it seems I wouldn't know the way, — Only I had wings some day Long ago. AFTER THE STORM Something happened in my garden in the night: When I went to bed my flowers were there all right; When the storm was over, I went out And found their petals scattered all about. I looked and looked, but all I found Was leaves and leaves upon the ground. Mother says, because it's Fall; I don't understand at all. The leaves have fallen 'cause it's Fall? — It doesn't sound like sense at all 'Less that is how it got its name, 'Cause Fall and Autumn is the same. I'm feeling sort of sad to-day, — There seems so much to what I say. Last night I went to bed so glad, But now I'm feeling sort of sad. When I have gone to sleep to-night And Mother has put out the light, Maybe I won't wake up at all, And Mother'll say, "Because it's rail." Now Mother's tucked me into bed, And there were lots of things she said, 'Cause I am feeling very sad Although I have done nothing bad. My dear old flowers are all gone dead, But there were lots of things she said: She said, "Next Spring the flowers will grow Just as they did last Spring, you know, They've hid themselves inside their seeds For fear of Jack Frost's naughty deeds." When it grows very cold indeed I guess I'll crawl inside my seed. FAIRIES Mother lit the fairy lantern When I went to bed 'Cause 'twas Hallowe'en, And there came into my room All the trees I've ever seen And bowed to me. They waved their branches over me And grew against the wall, — Young trees they were That stood up straight and tall. Mother said, "Do you see fairies?" I had thought them leaves. Perhaps it's just what one believes, 'Cause when she said it, There were fairies everywhere. THE LITTLE BEAST Mother said that I must always tell The truth, and it would make her glad; For so I'd be an honorable gentleman as well As a dear little lad. To-day a person came to tea. Mother and Daddy both agreed, Before she came, that she Was just as horrid as could be. And then they made her tea As sweet, as sweet, And put a footstool to her feet And gave the biggest cake. I thought they had made some mistake. I'd be an honorable gentleman, and so When she got up to go I told her what they'd said. And now I'm put to bed. Mother's not glad; She didn't call me Her dear little lad. I seem to have been bad Because I told the truth; She says I must not tell it Like a little beast, That I must be polite at least. I'm not an honorable gentleman Nor a dear little lad; I'm just a growly little beast With scratchy claws, — and all because I told the truth: — at least I am a truthful beast. Mother just came and kissed my eyes; I growled and showed my scratchy claws, — And then she said she loved me 'Cause — I was her little beast. i^znm^ THE LITTLE VOICE We were in the pantry by our self, Me and the cake; It looked so pleasant on the shelf, I climbed up there myself. I heard a little voice inside the cake Say, "Eat me." I don't think 'twas a mistake. I pretended I was a little mouse Trying to get inside my house; The little voice was crying to come out, And so I nibbled all the edge about. — Then mother came, and all at once I knew It was a wrong thing to do. I wasn't being good, But mother understood: Mother's so dear when I have things to tell, And she can make a hurt place well. SHADOWS ON THE WALL Sometimes in winter When I've gone to bed, The firelight shines upon the wall; The shadows flicker here and there, And I can't go to sleep at all. Queer shapes are dancing everywhere, And I can make them, too ; I make them with my hands, — Geese and hens and foxes too, And beasts that live in foreign lands. I make them eat each other up ; The elephant eats his brother up. — And then — I'm so afraid I pray to God my soul to keep, And then I go to sleep. BEFORE I CAME Grown-ups are always telling About things happened Before I came; Nothing's the same now I've come. Funny, I think. Things happened to me, too, Before I came; Nothing's the same. I know I had wings: I remember how I flew. Those are some of the things I remember night-times. — I do it in dreams So I won't forget too. MOODS Mother has moods and I have moods : They're queer. Sometimes I see them clear, — That's when they're through tormenting me. Their hair is black as black can be, It sticks out straight and frightens me; And they have eyes that look out, Down, all turned about, — They look the wrong way out. They come and take us when they please And make us do the things they like. She says that we must make them Do the things we like, And then perhaps they'll go away To that place where they stay. It must be dismal in the house Where black moods live; When I have extra happiness to give I'll send them some. I'll send it on the wings of joy; — They won't refuse it from a little boy. PART II SUMMER Summer's come. How my garden grows Violets in bunches, pansies all in rows,— Same old pansies wearing faces That they wore last year — Laughing at me — looking queer Out the corners of their eyes, Making believe that they are Awful wise. Oh, I'm going to have such lovely fun, For the summer's just begun; I'm not going to dread the fall, 'Cause after all Mother Nature tucks them in their seed, Just as Mother tucks me into bed For the sleep I need. BULLDOGS ON A STEM Like little bulldogs on a stem My pansies look, — I bark at them; Perhaps if I could hark Enough, I'd hear them bark at me. If they had tails they might get free And run around and play with me. SMELLERS Lilies of the valley Smell sweeter than the others; They're my favorites and Mother's for smellers. They seem to catch my breath And make me glad, — Somehow it's mixed with feeling sad. Everything seems mixed, — I wonder why? I think I'd like to mix things too. Maybe it's why I like the lilies' smell, Because they're sad and glad together, And so being mixed is just as well; It isn't bad, — it's like the sun And rain in April weather. WHEN MOTHER SINGS There are some things I remember when Mother sings Before I sleep. Once I was a blue flower On a tall green stem; I grew on a hillside And could see far and wide; I didn't feel alone, For growing near There was a vine Red in the sunshine. There are some things I remember When Mother sings Before I sleep. WILD LILIES Once I planted some wild lilies from the wood; Now they have become quite tame and good. Mother says they're full of graces, — I think they've very funny faces. Every morning I'm afraid they'll not be there; Though I weed and water them with care, I'm very much afraid they'll run away, 'Cause mother says I'll find them gone some day. I wonder why mother said I'd find them gone some day; — Does it mean I too must run away? Must I go and find them where they stay? I think about it lots while I'm at play. FLOWER FACES When very hard and long I look, My flowers have faces that I've seen in a book, — Or perhaps it was a fan. I think I could see anything If I looked long enough; It's things I'm thinking of I see, — They all come out to play with me. Sometimes I get afraid; I say, "I do not like you, go away!" But they won't go, they stay; And I go somewhere else to play. ASTERS AND ASTERS Asters and asters, a whole row All alike, — must be brothers Or sisters, I don't know which. I don't love them as I do the others. They're not wild; they're tame, — And they look all the same. I wonder if they feel that way. They won't play, — They just look at me and say nothing. Oh, dear! I'll go the other path to play. They're so dull — I'll run away; I won't come near them all day, So there! They won't care — they'll only say nothing.