Rainy - or Snow! - Day Dressing Up

Dressing Up

Upon the nursery window-pane
There's pitter-pattering of rain...

Along the nursery landing there's a very old oak box
That's full of coats and shawls inside, and curtains, hats, and frocks.
We go along the landing
'Cos it's a rainy day,
And push the box-lid open wide,
And then dress up and play.
There's me, and my friend Isobel,
And Miggy comes along as well.

And Isobel's a lady, so she dresses up all grand.
She 'tends she's talking Spanish, and we never understand.
She wears the dress like silver,
And has the shawl from Spain,
And pins a curtain round her waist
To make a lovely train.
She holds a fan, and always loves
To wear the pair of long white gloves.

And Miggy chooses anything that's bright and nice to touch.
She's only three - so Isobel won't let her have too much.
She has the things left over,
And bits that she can find;
And nothing fits her very well,
But Miggy doesn't mind.
She piles the hats up by the wall,
And likes to sit and wear them all.

But I dress up in sailor clothes, and 'tend I'm off to sea;
They're Uncle Philip's sailor clothes, and rather big for me;
But I can do a hornpipe,
And lots of sailor things -
Like sailing round the world and back -
Before the tea-bell rings.
And then I rattle chains about,
And shout, and throw the anchor out.

We take the dressing-up clothes off (and what we've torn is hid).
We put the clothes back in the box, and some one shuts the lid...

And then we hear the rain again
Upon the nursery window-pane.

From Marion St John Webb's book The Little One In Between, illustrated by Margaret W. Tarrant

Everything has a song

I feel the need for another positive, cheering poem! (Find yesterday's pick-me-up here)

Everything has a song! I.e. Find enjoyment/contentment in everyday things :-)

Jonathan Mends the Mats

Jonathan comes,
And Jonathan hums
When Jonathan mends the mat;
For everything has a song to it -
Jonathan told me that.
There's the song you sing when you wash your face,
And the song you sing to mice,
And the song you make for a currant cake,
And you sing the chorus twice.

Jonathan's song
Is never too long,
And Jonathan sings it slow.
And everything has a song to it -
Jonathan told me so.
There's the song you sing when you change your shoes,
And the song you sing in bed,
And you sing a song when they say you're wrong,
And you know you're right, he said.

Jonathan sings
To the littlest things,
And things of tremenjus size.
For everything has a song, he said,
Mountains - and hooks-and-eyes.
There's the song you sing to the chimney-sweep,
And the song to bowler hats;
And you sing a tune to the big round moon,
And a song to worn-out mats.

Jonathan mends,
And sews up the ends,
He said, "I am seventy-three;
But everything has a song to it,"
Jonathan nodded to me.
"In an old man's heart there are songs enough,
And I only fear one thing -
That a time comes near when the heart, my dear,
Will forget the way to sing."

From Marion St John Webb's book The Little One In Between

Christmas Night

Christmas Night

When it's Christmas night,
And the fire's alight,
And I'm lying awake in bed,
I feel quite sure there are fairies
Like the ones in tales I've read.
It's specially on Christmas night,
When nothing feels the same,
That I keep thinking to myself,
"Suppose a fairy came!"

I think there must be fairies
Who hang the stars all out,
And fairies who make the bells ring,
And carry the snow about.
And some of them paint the shadows
That dance up and down the wall -
So nobody need be frikened
Of shadows like that at all!
And one little special fairy
Looks after the ugly things,
And things that are old and broken,
And covers them with her wings.
That's why I've put my dolly -
The one that has lost an eye -
On the mantelshelf, so her fairy
Will see her as she goes by....

When it's Christmas night,
And the fire's alight,
And I'm lying in bed awake,
I keep quite still, and I listen
For the sounds the fairies make.
I've never seen nor heard them yet,
But I believe I might,
If only I could keep awake
All through one Christmas night.

From Marion St John Webb's book The Little One In Between

Fairyland is anywhere, you know

Greengage Jam

When I came back from Fairyland
At five o'clock to-day,
Belinda hadn't noticed that
I'd even been away!
I looked at where Belinda stood,
Belinda looked at me;
And then she gave a yawn and said,
"There's greengage jam for tea."

The way I go to Fairyland
Is up the attic stair,
And through the attic door and round
Some boxes - and it's there!
It's just between the arm-chair and
The clock without a face -
And nobody would guess it was
A really fairy place.

But Mother says that Fairyland
Is anywhere, you know;
You've only got to think it's there -
And there it is. And so
I've thinked that this is Fairyland,
And so it has to be.
But no one knows it's Fairyland,
Excepting only me.

I like to go to Fairyland
And sit and wait - quite still.
Though nothing's ever happened yet,
But some day p'r'aps it will!
It's nice to feel that no one knows
I'm sitting on the floor
And all alone in Fairyland,
Behind the attic door.

Belinda's got no Fairyland,
And if I said I'd been
She'd laugh at me - I know she would;
Belinda is thirteen.
So when I came from Fairyland
At five o'clock, you see,
I only said to her, "I'm glad
There's greengage jam for tea."

From Marion St John Webb's book The Little One In Between

'The Little One In Between' is a sweet old book of poems published in 1929, all written from the perspective of a little girl who is the middle child.

I really like the lines in this poem: "...Fairyland / Is anywhere, you know; / You've only got to think it's there - / And there it is."

It reminds me of the idea of finding pleasure, beauty and peace in the everyday, and within yourself :-)