Poems (Curwen)/The Last of the Holidays
The Last of the Holidays.
The rain has ceased, the sun shines bright, And the wind has dropped, I see, So let's away to Walney Point, And we'll have a gipsy tea.
There's only one day left, and then The holidays will be over; So, Willie, go and ask papa If he will launch the "Rover."
Run, Dora, and invite your friends, And be sure you hurry back; Emily, please take Mary out, While Ethel helps me to pack.
Get some brown paper off the shelf To wrap the kettle—steady; You nearly lost your balance then; Well, Willie?—"Rover's ready."
Have we got all? Then bolt the doors; Be quick, we must not tarry. How many children go with us?— As many as we can carry.
There's Cousin Madge, and Mamie C, Connie M., her sister J., Nellie and Emily Lauderdale, Dolly L. , and Rebecca K.,
Clarice, and little Bertie C, Who never yet have seen The Lighthouse, so that makes, with us, Our number seventeen.
Nellie, take Bertie's hand, or he May stumble on the pier. Now, we are off. Oh, this is grand! Willie, let father steer.
On sails old "Rover" with its freight Of children, young and gay, On, past the little isle of Piel, With its ruins, old and grey.
Here comes the "City of Belfast," Keep still, there's naught to fear; How gracefully she glides along, 'Tis quite a treat to see her.
Landed at last! Now, let us find A place where we can settle; Then some of you must seek for wood Wherewith to boil the kettle.
Dora, unfasten Mary's shoes, And then take off her socks; And you may paddle, too, but mind You do not splash your frocks.
O, happy children! Would that I Were young again like ye."Mamma, the kettle's singing, will You lay the cloth for tea?"
Find four smooth stones. What for? To keep The cloth firm on the ground. Here's father coming with the tea, Now seat yourselves around.
Willie, I wish you would be still, You keep me in a flutter, You nearly stepped upon the pie— There! he's upset the butter.
Father, another cup of tea? It simply is delicious. What; time to think of going! Why?" The weather looks suspicious."
"I fear there'll be a thunderstorm Before the day is over; I think our wisest course will be To make tracks for the "Rover."
Now we are homeward bound. Laugh on, While I in silence pray Each dear young voyager may find Life's sea calm as to-day;
And when at last their voyage ends, May each frail barque be found In that great haven God's prepared For all the "Homeward" bound.
