When I can count the numbers far,And know all the figures that there are,Then I'll know everything, and ICan know about the ground and sky,And all the little bugs I see,And I'll count the leaves on the silver-leaf tree,And all the days that ever can be.I'll know all the cows and sheep that pass,And I'll know all the grass,And all the places far away,And I'll know everything some day.
When I can count the numbers far,And know all the figures that there are,
When I can count the numbers far,
And know all the figures that there are,
Then I'll know everything, and ICan know about the ground and sky,
Then I'll know everything, and I
Can know about the ground and sky,
And all the little bugs I see,And I'll count the leaves on the silver-leaf tree,And all the days that ever can be.
And all the little bugs I see,
And I'll count the leaves on the silver-leaf tree,
And all the days that ever can be.
I'll know all the cows and sheep that pass,And I'll know all the grass,
I'll know all the cows and sheep that pass,
And I'll know all the grass,
And all the places far away,And I'll know everything some day.
And all the places far away,
And I'll know everything some day.
IN THE NIGHT
The light was burning very dim,The little blaze was brown and red,And I waked just in time to seeA panther going under the bed.I saw him crowd his body downTo make it fit the little space.I saw the streaks along his back,And bloody bubbles on his face.Long marks of light came out of my eyesAnd went into the lamp—and thereWas Something waiting in the room—I saw it sitting on a chair.Its only eye was shining red,Its face was very long and gray,Its two bent teeth were sticking out,And all its jaw was torn away.Its legs were flat against the chair,Its arms were hanging like a swing.It made its eye look into me,But did not move or say a thing.I tried to call and tried to scream,But all my throat was shut and dry.My little heart was jumping fast,I couldn't talk or cry.And when I'd look outside the bedI'd see the panther going in.The streaks were moving on his back,The bubbles on his chin.I couldn't help it if they came,I couldn't save myself at all,And so I only waited thereAnd turned my face against the wall.
The light was burning very dim,The little blaze was brown and red,And I waked just in time to seeA panther going under the bed.
The light was burning very dim,
The little blaze was brown and red,
And I waked just in time to see
A panther going under the bed.
I saw him crowd his body downTo make it fit the little space.I saw the streaks along his back,And bloody bubbles on his face.
I saw him crowd his body down
To make it fit the little space.
I saw the streaks along his back,
And bloody bubbles on his face.
Long marks of light came out of my eyesAnd went into the lamp—and thereWas Something waiting in the room—I saw it sitting on a chair.
Long marks of light came out of my eyes
And went into the lamp—and there
Was Something waiting in the room—
I saw it sitting on a chair.
Its only eye was shining red,Its face was very long and gray,Its two bent teeth were sticking out,And all its jaw was torn away.
Its only eye was shining red,
Its face was very long and gray,
Its two bent teeth were sticking out,
And all its jaw was torn away.
Its legs were flat against the chair,Its arms were hanging like a swing.It made its eye look into me,But did not move or say a thing.
Its legs were flat against the chair,
Its arms were hanging like a swing.
It made its eye look into me,
But did not move or say a thing.
I tried to call and tried to scream,But all my throat was shut and dry.My little heart was jumping fast,I couldn't talk or cry.
I tried to call and tried to scream,
But all my throat was shut and dry.
My little heart was jumping fast,
I couldn't talk or cry.
And when I'd look outside the bedI'd see the panther going in.The streaks were moving on his back,The bubbles on his chin.
And when I'd look outside the bed
I'd see the panther going in.
The streaks were moving on his back,
The bubbles on his chin.
I couldn't help it if they came,I couldn't save myself at all,And so I only waited thereAnd turned my face against the wall.
I couldn't help it if they came,
I couldn't save myself at all,
And so I only waited there
And turned my face against the wall.
THE PEOPLE
The ants are walking under the ground,And the pigeons are flying over the steeple,And in between are the people.
The ants are walking under the ground,And the pigeons are flying over the steeple,And in between are the people.
The ants are walking under the ground,
And the pigeons are flying over the steeple,
And in between are the people.
THE GRANDMOTHER
When Grandmother comes to our house,She sits in the chair and sews away.She cuts some pieces just alikeAnd makes a quilt all day.I watch her bite the little thread,Or stick the needle in and out,And then she remembers her grandmother's house,And what her grandmother told about,And how a very long ago—She tells it while she cuts and strips—We used to live in Mary-land,And there was a water with ships.But that was long before her day,She says, and so I like to standBeside her chair, and then I ask,"Please tell about in Mary-land."
When Grandmother comes to our house,She sits in the chair and sews away.She cuts some pieces just alikeAnd makes a quilt all day.
When Grandmother comes to our house,
She sits in the chair and sews away.
She cuts some pieces just alike
And makes a quilt all day.
I watch her bite the little thread,Or stick the needle in and out,And then she remembers her grandmother's house,And what her grandmother told about,
I watch her bite the little thread,
Or stick the needle in and out,
And then she remembers her grandmother's house,
And what her grandmother told about,
And how a very long ago—She tells it while she cuts and strips—We used to live in Mary-land,And there was a water with ships.
And how a very long ago—
She tells it while she cuts and strips—
We used to live in Mary-land,
And there was a water with ships.
But that was long before her day,She says, and so I like to standBeside her chair, and then I ask,"Please tell about in Mary-land."
But that was long before her day,
She says, and so I like to stand
Beside her chair, and then I ask,
"Please tell about in Mary-land."
v
IN MARYLAND
When it was Grandmother Barbara's day,We lived on a hill, and down below,Beyond the pasture and the trees,A river used to go.The water was very wide and blueAnd deep, and my! it was a sightTo see the ships go up and down,And all the sails were white.And Grandmother Barbara used to waitBeside the window or the door.She never was too tired of itTo watch the river any more.And we could hardly see across,And the water was blue, as blue as the sky,And all day long and all day longWe watched the little ships go by.
When it was Grandmother Barbara's day,We lived on a hill, and down below,Beyond the pasture and the trees,A river used to go.
When it was Grandmother Barbara's day,
We lived on a hill, and down below,
Beyond the pasture and the trees,
A river used to go.
The water was very wide and blueAnd deep, and my! it was a sightTo see the ships go up and down,And all the sails were white.
The water was very wide and blue
And deep, and my! it was a sight
To see the ships go up and down,
And all the sails were white.
And Grandmother Barbara used to waitBeside the window or the door.She never was too tired of itTo watch the river any more.
And Grandmother Barbara used to wait
Beside the window or the door.
She never was too tired of it
To watch the river any more.
And we could hardly see across,And the water was blue, as blue as the sky,And all day long and all day longWe watched the little ships go by.
And we could hardly see across,
And the water was blue, as blue as the sky,
And all day long and all day long
We watched the little ships go by.
THE SUNDAY BONNET
It happened at Grandmother Polly's house,And there was a bonnet put awayFor Polly to wear when she went to church.She would not wear it every day.It had some little flowers on,And it was standing on its headIn a bonnet box where it was safe,Away up stairs on the company's bed.And Grandmother Polly was going to church,And she sent her Alice up the stair—Alice was black—she was Evaline's child—She waited on Polly and combed her hair.And Alice said, "Oh, lawsie me!"And then she cried and came running down.And everyone went to see, and the catHad five little cats in the bonnet crown.
It happened at Grandmother Polly's house,And there was a bonnet put awayFor Polly to wear when she went to church.She would not wear it every day.
It happened at Grandmother Polly's house,
And there was a bonnet put away
For Polly to wear when she went to church.
She would not wear it every day.
It had some little flowers on,And it was standing on its headIn a bonnet box where it was safe,Away up stairs on the company's bed.
It had some little flowers on,
And it was standing on its head
In a bonnet box where it was safe,
Away up stairs on the company's bed.
And Grandmother Polly was going to church,And she sent her Alice up the stair—Alice was black—she was Evaline's child—She waited on Polly and combed her hair.
And Grandmother Polly was going to church,
And she sent her Alice up the stair—
Alice was black—she was Evaline's child—
She waited on Polly and combed her hair.
And Alice said, "Oh, lawsie me!"And then she cried and came running down.And everyone went to see, and the catHad five little cats in the bonnet crown.
And Alice said, "Oh, lawsie me!"
And then she cried and came running down.
And everyone went to see, and the cat
Had five little cats in the bonnet crown.
THE SUN AND A BIRCH TREE
As I came home through Howard's lane,The trees were bending down with rain.A still mist went across their tops,And my coat was powdered gray with drops.Then I looked in the woods to seeThe limbs of the white birch tree.It made a bright spot in the air,And I thought the sun was shining there.
As I came home through Howard's lane,The trees were bending down with rain.
As I came home through Howard's lane,
The trees were bending down with rain.
A still mist went across their tops,And my coat was powdered gray with drops.
A still mist went across their tops,
And my coat was powdered gray with drops.
Then I looked in the woods to seeThe limbs of the white birch tree.
Then I looked in the woods to see
The limbs of the white birch tree.
It made a bright spot in the air,And I thought the sun was shining there.
It made a bright spot in the air,
And I thought the sun was shining there.
A LITTLE WIND(A Song)
When I lay downIn a clover place,With eyelids closed,In a clover place,A little wind came to my face.One gentle windBlew on my mouth,And I said, "It will quiver by.What little wind now can it be?"And I lay stillWhere the clovers were.But when I raised my lids to see,Then it was a butterfly.
When I lay downIn a clover place,With eyelids closed,In a clover place,A little wind came to my face.
When I lay down
In a clover place,
With eyelids closed,
In a clover place,
A little wind came to my face.
One gentle windBlew on my mouth,And I said, "It will quiver by.What little wind now can it be?"And I lay stillWhere the clovers were.
One gentle wind
Blew on my mouth,
And I said, "It will quiver by.
What little wind now can it be?"
And I lay still
Where the clovers were.
But when I raised my lids to see,Then it was a butterfly.
But when I raised my lids to see,
Then it was a butterfly.
AUTUMN FIELDS
He said his legs were stiff and soreFor he had gone some twenty-eight miles,And he'd walked through by watergapsAnd fences and gates and stiles.He said he'd been by Logan's woods,And up by Walton's branch and Simms,And there were sticktights on his clothesAnd little dusts of seeds and stems.And then he sat down on the steps,And he said the miles were on his feet.For some of that land was tangled brush,And some was plowed for wheat.The rabbits were thick where he had been,And he said he'd found some ripe papaws.He'd rested under a white oak tree,And for his dinner he ate red haws.Then I sat by him on the stepTo see the things that he had seen.And I could smell the shocks and clods,And the land where he had been.
He said his legs were stiff and soreFor he had gone some twenty-eight miles,And he'd walked through by watergapsAnd fences and gates and stiles.
He said his legs were stiff and sore
For he had gone some twenty-eight miles,
And he'd walked through by watergaps
And fences and gates and stiles.
He said he'd been by Logan's woods,And up by Walton's branch and Simms,And there were sticktights on his clothesAnd little dusts of seeds and stems.
He said he'd been by Logan's woods,
And up by Walton's branch and Simms,
And there were sticktights on his clothes
And little dusts of seeds and stems.
And then he sat down on the steps,And he said the miles were on his feet.For some of that land was tangled brush,And some was plowed for wheat.
And then he sat down on the steps,
And he said the miles were on his feet.
For some of that land was tangled brush,
And some was plowed for wheat.
The rabbits were thick where he had been,And he said he'd found some ripe papaws.He'd rested under a white oak tree,And for his dinner he ate red haws.
The rabbits were thick where he had been,
And he said he'd found some ripe papaws.
He'd rested under a white oak tree,
And for his dinner he ate red haws.
Then I sat by him on the stepTo see the things that he had seen.And I could smell the shocks and clods,And the land where he had been.
Then I sat by him on the step
To see the things that he had seen.
And I could smell the shocks and clods,
And the land where he had been.
MR. PENNYBAKER AT CHURCH
He holds his songbook very low,And then he stretches down his face,And Mother said, "You mustn't watch,He's only singing bass."He makes his voice go walking down,Or else he hurries twice as fastAs all the rest, but even thenHe finishes the song the last.And when I see him singing there,I wonder if he knows it allAbout Leviticus and ShemAnd Deuteronomy and Saul.
He holds his songbook very low,And then he stretches down his face,And Mother said, "You mustn't watch,He's only singing bass."
He holds his songbook very low,
And then he stretches down his face,
And Mother said, "You mustn't watch,
He's only singing bass."
He makes his voice go walking down,Or else he hurries twice as fastAs all the rest, but even thenHe finishes the song the last.
He makes his voice go walking down,
Or else he hurries twice as fast
As all the rest, but even then
He finishes the song the last.
And when I see him singing there,I wonder if he knows it allAbout Leviticus and ShemAnd Deuteronomy and Saul.
And when I see him singing there,
I wonder if he knows it all
About Leviticus and Shem
And Deuteronomy and Saul.
THE WOLVES
When Grandmother Polly had married and gone,But before her father had given her Clem,Or Joe, or Sandy, or Evaline—Before he had given her any ofthem,She used to live in a far-away place,In a little cabin that was her home,And all around were bushes and trees,And the wolves could come.At night they ran down out of the rocksAnd bristled up their trembly fur.They came and howled by Polly's doorAnd showed their little white teeth at her.
When Grandmother Polly had married and gone,But before her father had given her Clem,Or Joe, or Sandy, or Evaline—Before he had given her any ofthem,
When Grandmother Polly had married and gone,
But before her father had given her Clem,
Or Joe, or Sandy, or Evaline—
Before he had given her any ofthem,
She used to live in a far-away place,In a little cabin that was her home,And all around were bushes and trees,And the wolves could come.
She used to live in a far-away place,
In a little cabin that was her home,
And all around were bushes and trees,
And the wolves could come.
At night they ran down out of the rocksAnd bristled up their trembly fur.They came and howled by Polly's doorAnd showed their little white teeth at her.
At night they ran down out of the rocks
And bristled up their trembly fur.
They came and howled by Polly's door
And showed their little white teeth at her.
A BEAUTIFUL LADY
We like to listen to her dress,It makes a whisper by her feet.Her little pointed shoes are gray;She hardly lets them touch the street.Sometimes she has a crumpled fan.Her hat is silvered on the crown.And there are roses by the brimThat nod and tremble up and down.She comes along the pavement walk,And in a moment she is gone.She hardly ever looks at us,But once she smiled and looked at John.And so we run to see her passAnd watch her through the fence, and ICan hear the others whispering,"Miss Josephine is going by."
We like to listen to her dress,It makes a whisper by her feet.Her little pointed shoes are gray;She hardly lets them touch the street.
We like to listen to her dress,
It makes a whisper by her feet.
Her little pointed shoes are gray;
She hardly lets them touch the street.
Sometimes she has a crumpled fan.Her hat is silvered on the crown.And there are roses by the brimThat nod and tremble up and down.
Sometimes she has a crumpled fan.
Her hat is silvered on the crown.
And there are roses by the brim
That nod and tremble up and down.
She comes along the pavement walk,And in a moment she is gone.She hardly ever looks at us,But once she smiled and looked at John.
She comes along the pavement walk,
And in a moment she is gone.
She hardly ever looks at us,
But once she smiled and looked at John.
And so we run to see her passAnd watch her through the fence, and ICan hear the others whispering,"Miss Josephine is going by."
And so we run to see her pass
And watch her through the fence, and I
Can hear the others whispering,
"Miss Josephine is going by."
SHELLS IN ROCK
I've been along the quarry road,And I have watched men digging wells,And everywhere it was the same—The stones were full of little shells.And they are packed away in rock;They're under sand and under clay;And some one said that they were leftWhen the ocean went away.I saw them in the stones that makeA church, and in a bridge.They're hidden in the solid rockBut they show along the edge.You see them in foundation stones;They show in creeks and waterfalls;And once I saw them on the jail—More little shells in walls.We walk on them when we walk on roads;And they're packed under all the hills.Suppose the sea should come back hereAnd gather up its shells.
I've been along the quarry road,And I have watched men digging wells,And everywhere it was the same—The stones were full of little shells.
I've been along the quarry road,
And I have watched men digging wells,
And everywhere it was the same—
The stones were full of little shells.
And they are packed away in rock;They're under sand and under clay;And some one said that they were leftWhen the ocean went away.
And they are packed away in rock;
They're under sand and under clay;
And some one said that they were left
When the ocean went away.
I saw them in the stones that makeA church, and in a bridge.They're hidden in the solid rockBut they show along the edge.
I saw them in the stones that make
A church, and in a bridge.
They're hidden in the solid rock
But they show along the edge.
You see them in foundation stones;They show in creeks and waterfalls;And once I saw them on the jail—More little shells in walls.
You see them in foundation stones;
They show in creeks and waterfalls;
And once I saw them on the jail—
More little shells in walls.
We walk on them when we walk on roads;And they're packed under all the hills.Suppose the sea should come back hereAnd gather up its shells.
We walk on them when we walk on roads;
And they're packed under all the hills.
Suppose the sea should come back here
And gather up its shells.
HORSE
His bridle hung around the post.The sun and the leaves made spots come down;I looked close at him through the fence;The post was drab and he was brown.His nose was long and hard and still,And on his lip were specks like chalk.But once he opened up his eyes,And he began to talk.He didn't talk out with his mouth;He didn't talk with words or noise.The talk was there along his nose;It seemed and then it was.He said the day was hot and slow,And he said he didn't like the flies;They made him have to shake his skin,And they got drowned in his eyes.He said that drab was just aboutThe same as brown, but he was notA post, he said, to hold a fence."I'm horse," he said, "that's what!"And then he shut his eyes again.As still as they had been before.He said for me to run alongAnd not to bother him any more.
His bridle hung around the post.The sun and the leaves made spots come down;I looked close at him through the fence;The post was drab and he was brown.
His bridle hung around the post.
The sun and the leaves made spots come down;
I looked close at him through the fence;
The post was drab and he was brown.
His nose was long and hard and still,And on his lip were specks like chalk.But once he opened up his eyes,And he began to talk.
His nose was long and hard and still,
And on his lip were specks like chalk.
But once he opened up his eyes,
And he began to talk.
He didn't talk out with his mouth;He didn't talk with words or noise.The talk was there along his nose;It seemed and then it was.
He didn't talk out with his mouth;
He didn't talk with words or noise.
The talk was there along his nose;
It seemed and then it was.
He said the day was hot and slow,And he said he didn't like the flies;They made him have to shake his skin,And they got drowned in his eyes.
He said the day was hot and slow,
And he said he didn't like the flies;
They made him have to shake his skin,
And they got drowned in his eyes.
He said that drab was just aboutThe same as brown, but he was notA post, he said, to hold a fence."I'm horse," he said, "that's what!"
He said that drab was just about
The same as brown, but he was not
A post, he said, to hold a fence.
"I'm horse," he said, "that's what!"
And then he shut his eyes again.As still as they had been before.He said for me to run alongAnd not to bother him any more.
And then he shut his eyes again.
As still as they had been before.
He said for me to run along
And not to bother him any more.
AUGUST NIGHT
We had to wait for the heat to pass,And I was lying on the grass,While Mother sat outside the door,And I saw how many stars there were.Beyond the tree, beyond the air,And more and more were always there.So many that I think they mustBe sprinkled on the sky like dust.A dust is coming through the sky!And I felt myself begin to cry.So many of them and so small,Suppose I cannot know them all.
We had to wait for the heat to pass,And I was lying on the grass,
We had to wait for the heat to pass,
And I was lying on the grass,
While Mother sat outside the door,And I saw how many stars there were.
While Mother sat outside the door,
And I saw how many stars there were.
Beyond the tree, beyond the air,And more and more were always there.
Beyond the tree, beyond the air,
And more and more were always there.
So many that I think they mustBe sprinkled on the sky like dust.
So many that I think they must
Be sprinkled on the sky like dust.
A dust is coming through the sky!And I felt myself begin to cry.
A dust is coming through the sky!
And I felt myself begin to cry.
So many of them and so small,Suppose I cannot know them all.
So many of them and so small,
Suppose I cannot know them all.
THREE DOMINICAN NUNS
One day they came; I heard their feet.They made a tapping on the street.And as they passed before our trees,Their shawls blew out in curves like threes,And bent again in twos and L's;The wind blew on their rosariesAnd made them ring like little bells.
One day they came; I heard their feet.They made a tapping on the street.
One day they came; I heard their feet.
They made a tapping on the street.
And as they passed before our trees,Their shawls blew out in curves like threes,And bent again in twos and L's;
And as they passed before our trees,
Their shawls blew out in curves like threes,
And bent again in twos and L's;
The wind blew on their rosariesAnd made them ring like little bells.
The wind blew on their rosaries
And made them ring like little bells.
MY HEART
My heart is beating up and down,Is walking like some heavy feet.My heart is going every day,And I can hear it jump and beat.At night before I go to sleep,I feel it beating in my head;I hear it jumping in my neckAnd in the pillow on my bed.And then I make some little wordsTo go along and say with it—The men are sailing home from Troy,And all the lamps are lit.The men are sailing home from Troy,And all the lamps are lit.
My heart is beating up and down,Is walking like some heavy feet.My heart is going every day,And I can hear it jump and beat.
My heart is beating up and down,
Is walking like some heavy feet.
My heart is going every day,
And I can hear it jump and beat.
At night before I go to sleep,I feel it beating in my head;I hear it jumping in my neckAnd in the pillow on my bed.
At night before I go to sleep,
I feel it beating in my head;
I hear it jumping in my neck
And in the pillow on my bed.
And then I make some little wordsTo go along and say with it—The men are sailing home from Troy,And all the lamps are lit.
And then I make some little words
To go along and say with it—
The men are sailing home from Troy,
And all the lamps are lit.
The men are sailing home from Troy,And all the lamps are lit.
The men are sailing home from Troy,
And all the lamps are lit.
THE HENS
The night was coming very fast;It reached the gate as I ran past.The pigeons had gone to the tower of the churchAnd all the hens were on their perch,Up in the barn, and I thought I heardA piece of a little purring word.I stopped inside, waiting and staying,To try to hear what the hens were saying.They were asking something, that was plain,Asking it over and over again.One of them moved and turned around,Her feathers made a ruffled sound,A ruffled sound, like a bushful of birds,And she said her little asking words.She pushed her head close into her wing,But nothing answered anything.
The night was coming very fast;It reached the gate as I ran past.
The night was coming very fast;
It reached the gate as I ran past.
The pigeons had gone to the tower of the churchAnd all the hens were on their perch,
The pigeons had gone to the tower of the church
And all the hens were on their perch,
Up in the barn, and I thought I heardA piece of a little purring word.
Up in the barn, and I thought I heard
A piece of a little purring word.
I stopped inside, waiting and staying,To try to hear what the hens were saying.
I stopped inside, waiting and staying,
To try to hear what the hens were saying.
They were asking something, that was plain,Asking it over and over again.
They were asking something, that was plain,
Asking it over and over again.
One of them moved and turned around,Her feathers made a ruffled sound,
One of them moved and turned around,
Her feathers made a ruffled sound,
A ruffled sound, like a bushful of birds,And she said her little asking words.
A ruffled sound, like a bushful of birds,
And she said her little asking words.
She pushed her head close into her wing,But nothing answered anything.
She pushed her head close into her wing,
But nothing answered anything.
The end ofUnder the Tree