September
Saturday 1 May 2010 photo 1/1
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You and me
You and me - we know this land
And often have been there
In the long old days, old nursery days,
A dark child and a fair.
Was it down the ptahs of firelight dreams
In winter cold and white,
Or in the blue-spun twilit hours
Or little early tucked-up beds
In drowsy summer night,
That you and I got lost in sleep
And met each other there -
Your dark hair on your white nightgown,
And mine was tangled fair?
We wandered shyly hand in hand,
Or rollicked in the fairy sand
Adn gathered pearls and shells in pails,
While all about the nightingales
Were singing in the trees.
We dug for silver with our spades
By little inland sparkling seas,
Then ran ashore through sleepy glades
And down a warm and winding lane
We never never found again
Between high wispering trees.
The air was neither night or day,
But faintly dark with softest light,
When first there glimmered into sight
The cottage of lost play.
'Was builded very, very old
White, and tatched with straws of gold,
And pierced with peeping lattices
That looked toward the sea;
And our own children's garden-plots
Where there - our own forgetmenots,
Red daisies, cress and mustard
And blue nemophilë.
O! all the borders trimmed with box
Were full of favorite flowers - of phlox,
Of larkspur, pinks, and hollyhocks
Beneath a red may-tree:
And all the paths were full of shapes,
Of tumbling happy white-clad shapes,
And with them You and Me.
And some had silver watering-cans
And watered all their gowns,
Or sprayed each other; some laid plans
To build them houses, fairy towns,
Or dwelling in the trees;
And some were clambering on the roof;
Some crooning lonely and aloof;
And some were dancing fairy-rings
And weaving pearly daisy-strings,
Or chasing golden bees;
But there are a little pair
With rosy cheeks and tangled hair
Debated quaint old childish things
And we were one of these.
And why it was Tommorrow came
And with his grey hand led us back;
And why we never found the same
Old cottage, or the magic track
That leads between a silver sea
And those old shores and gardens fair
Where all things are, that ever were -
We know not, You and Me
You and me - we know this land
And often have been there
In the long old days, old nursery days,
A dark child and a fair.
Was it down the ptahs of firelight dreams
In winter cold and white,
Or in the blue-spun twilit hours
Or little early tucked-up beds
In drowsy summer night,
That you and I got lost in sleep
And met each other there -
Your dark hair on your white nightgown,
And mine was tangled fair?
We wandered shyly hand in hand,
Or rollicked in the fairy sand
Adn gathered pearls and shells in pails,
While all about the nightingales
Were singing in the trees.
We dug for silver with our spades
By little inland sparkling seas,
Then ran ashore through sleepy glades
And down a warm and winding lane
We never never found again
Between high wispering trees.
The air was neither night or day,
But faintly dark with softest light,
When first there glimmered into sight
The cottage of lost play.
'Was builded very, very old
White, and tatched with straws of gold,
And pierced with peeping lattices
That looked toward the sea;
And our own children's garden-plots
Where there - our own forgetmenots,
Red daisies, cress and mustard
And blue nemophilë.
O! all the borders trimmed with box
Were full of favorite flowers - of phlox,
Of larkspur, pinks, and hollyhocks
Beneath a red may-tree:
And all the paths were full of shapes,
Of tumbling happy white-clad shapes,
And with them You and Me.
And some had silver watering-cans
And watered all their gowns,
Or sprayed each other; some laid plans
To build them houses, fairy towns,
Or dwelling in the trees;
And some were clambering on the roof;
Some crooning lonely and aloof;
And some were dancing fairy-rings
And weaving pearly daisy-strings,
Or chasing golden bees;
But there are a little pair
With rosy cheeks and tangled hair
Debated quaint old childish things
And we were one of these.
And why it was Tommorrow came
And with his grey hand led us back;
And why we never found the same
Old cottage, or the magic track
That leads between a silver sea
And those old shores and gardens fair
Where all things are, that ever were -
We know not, You and Me
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