By Katherine Mansfield
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So much too hot, From the town between 44 the frills. hills. 1916. VOICES OF THE AIR But then there comes that moment When, for no cause that I can find, The rare Httle voices of the air Sound above The And sea all the sea and wind. and wind do then obey sighing, sighing double notes Of double basses, content to play A droning chord for the little throats The Up little — throats that sing and rise into the light with lovely ease And a kind of magical, sweet surprise To hear and know themselves for these For these The The The little voices : leaf that taps, the the bee, the pod — fly, that breaks.
It the shabby old thing right out of the " into the faces of other children Ha : W'hat easily satisfied babies. turn me, tie spelt a fortune as a waist-belt. window ; ! Ha ! We laughed and laughed till the tears came ! 1911. 29 THERE WAS A CHILD ONCE There was a child once. He came to play in my garden He was ; quite pale and silent. Only when he smiled I knew everything about him, I knew what he had in his pockets, And And I led I knew the feel of his hands in my hands the most intimate tones of his voice.
And long he will lie there my my Long . " . 1911. 25 TO GOD THE FATHER To the little, pitiful God I make my prayer, The God with the long grey beard And flowing robe fastened with a hempen girdle Who sits nodding and muttering on the all-too-big throne of Heaven. What a long, long time, dear God, since you set the stars in their places, sea, and invented the day and night. longer the time since you looked through the blue window of Heaven Girded the earth with the And To see your children at play in a garden.
Poems of Katherine Mansfield by Katherine Mansfield