Child's Garden of Verses (version 2) — My Bed is a Boat, The Moon, The Swing, Time to Rise, Looking-Glass River

MY BED IS A BOAT

My bed is like a little boat;

Nurse helps me in when I embark;

She girds me in my sailor's coat And starts me in the dark.

At night, I go on board and say Good-night to all my friends on shore;

I shut my eyes and sail away And see and hear no more.

And sometimes things to bed I take, As prudent sailors have to do;

Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake, Perhaps a toy or two.

All night across the dark we steer;

But when the day returns at last, Safe in my room, beside the pier, I find my vessel fast.

[Illustration] THE MOON

The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;

She shines on thieves on the garden wall, On streets and field and harbour quays, And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse, The howling dog by the door of the house, The bat that lies in bed at noon, All love to be out by the light of the moon.

But all of the things that belong to the day Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way;

And flowers and children close their eyes Till up in the morning the sun shall arise.

[Illustration] [Illustration] THE SWING

How do you like to go up in a swing, Up in the air so blue?

Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall, Till I can see so wide, Rivers and trees and cattle and all Over the countryside-- Till I look down on the garden green, Down on the roof so brown-- Up in the air I go flying again, Up in the air and down!

[Illustration] TIME TO RISE

A birdie with a yellow bill Hopped upon the window sill, Cocked his shining eye and said: "Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head!"

[Illustration] LOOKING-GLASS RIVER

Smooth it glides upon its travel, Here a wimple, there a gleam-- O the clean gravel!

O the smooth stream!

Sailing blossoms, silver fishes, Paven pools as clear as air-- How a child wishes To live down there!

We can see our coloured faces Floating on the shaken pool Down in cool places, Dim and very cool;

Till a wind or water wrinkle, Dipping marten, plumping trout, Spreads in a twinkle And blots all out.

See the rings pursue each other;

All below grows black as night, Just as if mother Had blown out the light!

Patience, children, just a minute-- See the spreading circles die;

The stream and all in it Will clear by-and-by.