Maine Girls Growing Up

Friday, May 2, 2014

My Poem

alivias siggy.jpgKeepsake Mill

Over the borders, a sin without pardon,

Breaking the branches and crawling below,

Out through the breech in the wall of the garden,

Down by the banks of the river ,we go.

Here is the mill with the humming of thunder,

Here is the weir with the wonder of foam,

Here is the sluice with the race of running under-

Marvelous places, though handy to home!

Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller,

Stiller the note of the birds on the hill;

Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller,

Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill.

Years may go by, and the wheel in the river

Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day,

Wheel and keep roaring and foaming for ever-

Long after the boys are away.

Home from the Indies and home from the ocean,

Heroes and soldiers we all shall come home;

Still we shall find the old wheel in motion,

Turning and churning that river to foam.

You with the bean that I gave when we quarreled,

I with the marble of Saturday last,

Honoured and old and gaily appareled,

Here we shall meet and remember the past.

                       Robert Louis Stevenson:)

Thursday, April 10, 2014

My Poem

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Young Night Thought

All night long and every night,

When my mama puts out the light,

I see the people marching by,

As plain as day, before my eye.

Armies and emperors and kings,

All carrying different kinds of things,

And marching in so grand a way,

You never saw the like by day.

So fine a show was never seen

At the circus on the green;

For every kind of beast and man

Is marching in that caravan.

At first they move a little slow,

But still the faster on they go,

And still beside them close I keep,

Until we reach the town of sleep.

                                    Robert Louis Stevenson

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

My Poem

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Windy Nights

Whenever the moon and stars are set,

Whenever the wind is high,

All night long in the dark and wet,

A man goes riding by.

Late in the night when the fires are out,

Why does he gallop and gallop about?

Whenever the trees are crying aloud,

And ships are tossed at sea,

By, on the highway, low and loud,

By at the gallop goes he.

By at the gallop he goes, and then

By he comes back at the gallop again.

Robert Louis Stevenson  

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

My Poem!!

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Block city

       What are you able to build with your blocks?

        Castles and Palaces, Temples and Docks.

       Rain may keep raining, and others go roam,

       But I can be happy building at home.

      Let the sofa be mountains,the carpet be sea,

      There I'll establish a city for me:

      A kirk and a mill and a palace beside,

   And a harbour as well where my vessels may ride.

      Great is the palace with piller and wall,

      A sort of a tower on top of it all,

       And steps coming down in a orderly way  

      To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay.

      This one is sailing, and this one is moored:     
      Hark to the song of the sailors on board!

      And see on the steps of my palace, the kings

      Coming and going with presents and things!


     Now I have done with it, down let it go!

     All in a moment the town is laid low.

     Block upon block lying scattered and free,

     What is there left of my town by the sea?

     Yet as I saw it, I see it again,
     The kirk and the palace, the ships and the men,

     And as long as I live and where'er I may be, 

     I'll always remember the town by the sea.  

                         Robert Louis Stevenson   


Tuesday, March 4, 2014

My Poem

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The Wind   

      I saw you toss the kites on high 

        And blow the birds about the sky;

        And all around I heard you pass,

        Like ladies' skirts across the grass-

        O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
        O wind, that sings so loud a song!
        I saw the different things you did,

        But always you yourself you hid.
        I felt you push, I heard you call,

        I could not see yourself at all-
        O wind, a-blowing all day long,
        O wind, that sings so loud a song!

        O you that are so strong and cold,

        O blower, are you young or old?

        Are you a beast of field and tree,

        Or just a stronger child than me?

        O wind, a-blowing all day long,
        O wind, that sings so loud a song?


                   Robert Louis Stevenson





Tuesday, February 25, 2014

My poem

alivias siggy.jpg My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky;

 It's time to take the window to see Leerie going by;

 For every night at teatime and  before you take your seat,

 With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street.

  Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea,

  And my papa's a banker and as rich as he can be;

  But I, when I an stonger and can choose what I'm to do,

  O Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the lamps with you!

  For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door,

  And Leerie stops to light it as he does so many more;

  And O! before you hurry by with ladder and with light,

  O Leerie, see a little child and nod him to-night. 

                              Robert Louis Stevenson