Katherine Mansfield

That deaf old
With his hand to his ear—His hand to hi head stood out like a shell,
Horny and hollow
He said, "I can't hear,"He muttered, "Don't shout,

Shadow children, thin and small,
Now the day is left behind,
You are dancing on the wall,
On the curtains, on the blind

Now this is the story of
Who ages and ages
Lived right on the top of a mountain,
A mountain all covered with snow

Most merciful
Look kindly
An impudent
Who wants sitting on

Hinemoa,
Tui,
Maina,
All of them were born together;

I climbed up the karaka
Into a nest all made of
But soft as feathers
I made up a song that went on singing all by

Baby Babbles—only one,
Now to sit up has begun
Little Babbles quite turned
Walks as well as I and you

I saw a tiny
Under a bright blue
That had white
And forked ribs of gold

Out in the garden,
Out in the windy, swinging dark,
Under the trees and over the flower-beds,
Over the grass and under the hedge border,

But then there comes that moment
When, for no cause that I can find,
The little voices of the
Sound above all the sea and wind

The
Walked out into the
And splashed in all the pubbles
She had such shocking

The gulls are mad-in-love with the river,
And the river unveils her face and smiles
In her sleep-brooding eyes they mirror their shining wings
She lies on silver pillows: the sun leans over her