Poems (Piatt)/Volume 2/In Street and Garden
Appearance
IN STREET AND GARDEN.
I. A CHILD'S CONCLUSION."Mamma," he said, "you ought to know
The place. It's name is wicked, though.
Not China. No. But if you fell
Through China you would be there! Well.
The place. It's name is wicked, though.
Not China. No. But if you fell
Through China you would be there! Well.
"Fred said somebody very bad,
Named Satan, stayed down there, and had
Oh, such a fire to burn things! You
Just never mind. It can't be true.
Named Satan, stayed down there, and had
Oh, such a fire to burn things! You
Just never mind. It can't be true.
"Because I've digged and digged to see
Where all that fire could ever be,
And looked and looked down through the dark,
And never saw a single spark.
Where all that fire could ever be,
And looked and looked down through the dark,
And never saw a single spark.
"But Heaven is sure; because if I
Look up, I always see the sky—
Sometimes the gold-gates shine clear through—
And when you see a thing, it's true!"
Look up, I always see the sky—
Sometimes the gold-gates shine clear through—
And when you see a thing, it's true!"
II.
SELF-COMFORTED.The ragged child across the street
Stared at the child that looked so sweet:
Stared at the child that looked so sweet:
"I'll have a whiter dress than you,
And wear some prettier rosebuds, too;
And wear some prettier rosebuds, too;
"And not be proud a bit," she said,
"I thank you, miss,—when I am dead."
"I thank you, miss,—when I am dead."
III.
LITTLE GUIDO'S LOST PICTURES.The world may keep the best he gave to it.
That may be worth the world itself. Who knows?
Here, you who are his namesake, come and sit,
And read about him, by this budding rose.
That may be worth the world itself. Who knows?
Here, you who are his namesake, come and sit,
And read about him, by this budding rose.
The world may keep the Aurora. As for me,
I'd rather see the pictures that he drew
In the divine dust, there, of Italy,
When Guido was a sweet, dark boy like you.
I'd rather see the pictures that he drew
In the divine dust, there, of Italy,
When Guido was a sweet, dark boy like you.