Public Domain Poetry And Stories - The Little People by Madison Julius Cawein
Public domain poetry and public domain stories from the literary greats of yesteryear.
Custom Search
Main Menu

Home

Latest Poetry

Latest Authors

Authors Surname

Authors First Name

Poetry Title

Poetry First Lines

Latest Stories

Stories Title

Top Authors

Top Poetry


Top Stories Etc.

Search

Contact Us

Useless Information!!

Store



Top Sites, Click here to vote for our site

Sponsored Links

Read, Rate, Comment on or Submit your poetry

The Little People

    By Madison Julius Cawein



I.

    When the lily nods in slumber,
    And the roses all are sleeping;
    When the night hangs deep and umber,
    And the stars their watch are keeping;
    When the clematis uncloses
    Like a hand of snowy fire,
    And the golden-lipped primroses,
    To the tiger-moths' desire,
    Each a mouth of musk unpuckers
    Silken pouts of scented sweetness,
    That they sip with honey-suckers;
    Shod with hush and winged with fleetness,
    You may see the Little People,
    'Round and 'round the drowsy steeple
    Of a belfried hollyhock,
    Clothed in phlox and four-o'clock,
    Gay of gown and pantaloon,
    Dancing by the glimmering moon,
    Till the cock, the long-necked cock,
    Crows them they must vanish soon.

II.

    When the cobweb is a cradle
    For the dreaming dew to sleep in;
    And each blossom is a ladle
    That the perfumed rain lies deep in;
    When the gleaming fireflies scribble
    Darkness as with lines flame-tragic,
    And the night seems some dim sibyl
    Speaking gold, or wording magic
    Silent-syllabled and golden;
    Capped with snapdragon and hooded
    With the sweet-pea, vague-beholden,
    You may see the Little People,
    Underneath the sleepy steeple
    Of a towering mullen-stock,
    Trip it over moss and rock
    To the owlet's elvish tune
    And the tree-toad's gnome bassoon,
    Till the cock, the barnyard cock,
    Crows them they must vanish soon.

III.

    When the wind upon the water
    Seems a boat of ray and ripple,
    That some fairy moonbeam daughter
    Steers with sails that drift and dripple;
    When the sound of grig and cricket,
    Ever singing, ever humming,
    Seems a goblin in the thicket
    On his elfin viol strumming;
    When the toadstool, coned and milky,
    Heaves a roof for snails to clamber;
    Thistledown- and milkweed-silky,
    With loose locks of jade and amber,
    You may see the Little People,
    Underneath the pixy steeple
    Of a doméd mushroom, flock,
    Quaint in wildflower vest and frock,
    Whirling by the waning moon
    To the whippoorwill's weird tune,
    Till the cock, the far-off cock,
    Crows them they must vanish soon.



Extra Info:



Printable Page

Add Your Thoughts on this poem.



This page viewed 385 times.
Sponsored Links


Your Shops - Affordable Ecommerce stores and cheaper goods for customers - No listing fees!



Our Sites