I love the cheery bustle
Of children round the house,
The tidy maids a-hustle,
The chatter of my spouse;
The laughter and the singing,
The joy on every face:
With frequent laughter ringing,
O, Home’s a happy place!
Aye, Home’s a bit of heaven;
I love it every day;
My line-up of eleven
Combine to make it gay;
Yet when in June they’re leaving
For Sandport by the sea,
By rights I should be grieving,
But gosh! I just fell free.
I’m left with parting kisses,
The guardian of the house;
The romp, it’s true, one misses,
I’m quiet as a mouse.
In carpet slippers stealing
From room to room alone
I get the strangest feeling
The place is all my own.
It seems to nestle near me,
It whispers in my ear;
My books and pictures cheer me,
Hearth never was so dear.
In peace profound I lap me,
I take no stock of time,
And from the dreams that hap me,
I make (like this) a rhyme.
Oh, I’m ashamed of saying
(And think it’s mean of me),
That when the kids are staying
At Sandspot on the sea,
And I evoke them clearly
Disporting in the spray,
I love them still more dearly
Because . . . they’re far away.
To see the land of Topsy-Turvy
I was very surprised
You will be in amazement
When you see it with your eyes,
The sun used to rise in west
Children used to go to school at night
During the day, people used to rest,
The moon had its own light!
The people used to walk on hands
and that too on walls,
Isn’t this a weird land
Where boys love to play with dolls!
Women used to wear bindi on chin
Lipstick was worn by boys!
The plants could grow without water
The cat was chased by the mouse
Blacksmith’s work was done by a potter
Instead of people, animals used to live in house!
Animals used to have humans as pet
And discount rates were high,
To eat pedigree humans used to get
Instead of eagle, ostrich would fly.
Roots prepared food instead of leaves,
The most free creatures were bees.
Ants were bigger than elephants
Beggars were plump and fat,
Adults used to cry like infants
And rich used to wear rags.
Gum was used to break things and
Seconds were larger than minutes,
So peculiar would this land be
And this land of our creations!!!
How can I then return in happy plight
That am debarred the benefit of rest?
When day’s oppression is not eased by night,
But day by night, and night by day oppressed?
And each, though enemies to either’s reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the day, to please him, thou art bright
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven;
So flatter I the swart-complexioned night,
When sparkling stars twire not thou gild’st the even.
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make grief’s length seem stronger.
How happy is the little Stone
That rambles in the Road alone,
And doesn’t care about Careers
And Exigencies never fears —
Whose Coat of elemental Brown
A passing Universe put on,
And independent as the Sun
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute Decree
In casual simplicity —
For: #BeWoW and Nurturing Thursday
There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields –
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!