I WHEN I'm grown up and children talk a little, I'll never say, "You drive me wild," Nor answer them, "Whatever next, I wonder!" Nor yet, "Good Heavens, what a child!" II When I go to bed I think of the wood, And the still, dark pond by the willows, Where the moorhen sits on her islet of roots With the cold, damp sticks for pillows. She sits alone by the sleeping pool, She looks at the sky and ponders, She broods on her eggs and covers them all, And looks at the sky and wonders— She thinks the stars were the eggs of the moon, And wonders to see them hatched so soon. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SINGER OF ONE SONG by HENRY AUGUSTIN BEERS BLUEBEARD'S CLOSET by ROSE TERRY COOKE AN AUGUST MIDNIGHT by THOMAS HARDY ON LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD by BEN JONSON TO SIR HENRY GOODYERE by BEN JONSON OUR LADY'S LULLABY by RICHARD ROWLANDS A SUMMER NIGHT by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL |