UNDER THE TREE

And over and over I tried to see
Some of us walking under the tree,

And how it looks when I am there.

From On the Hill

UNDER THE TREE

BY

ELIZABETH MADOX ROBERTS

new york B. W. HUEBSCH, Inc. mcmxxii

COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY
B. W. HUEBSCH, INC.

PRINTED IN U. S. A.

TO MY FATHER
SIMPSON ROBERTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Certain of these poems have appeared in The Atlantic Monthly, The University Record (the University of Chicago), Poetry, a Magazine of Verse, Child Life, and the Phoenix. The author thanks the editors of these journals for the privilege of reprinting.

CONTENTS

[ ]

THE SKY

I saw a shadow on the ground

And heard a bluejay going by;

A shadow went across the ground,

And I looked up and saw the sky.

It hung up on the poplar tree,

But while I looked it did not stay;

It gave a tiny sort of jerk

And moved a little bit away.

And farther on and farther on

It moved and never seemed to stop.

I think it must be tied with chains

And something pulls it from the top.

It never has come down again,

And every time I look to see,

The sky is always slipping back

And getting far away from me.

[ ]

THE CORNFIELD

I went across the pasture lot

When not a one was watching me.

Away beyond the cattle barns

I climbed a little crooked tree.

And I could look down on the field

And see the corn and how it grows

Across the world and up and down

In very straight and even rows.

And far away and far away—

I wonder if the farmer man

Knows all about the corn and how

It comes together like a fan.

[ ]

MILKING TIME

When supper time is almost come,

But not quite here, I cannot wait,

And so I take my china mug

And go down by the milking gate.

The cow is always eating shucks

And spilling off the little silk.

Her purple eyes are big and soft—

She always smells like milk.

And Father takes my mug from me,

And then he makes the stream come out.

I see it going in my mug

And foaming all about.

And when it's piling very high,

And when some little streams commence

To run and drip along the sides,

He hands it to me through the fence.

[ ]

IN MY PILLOW

When Mother or Father turns down the light,

I like to look into my pillow at night.

Some people call them dreams, but for me

They are things I look down in my pillow and see.

I saw some birds, as many as four,

That were all blue wings and nothing else more.

Without any head and without any feet,

Just blue wings flying over a street.

And almost every night I see

A little brown bowl that can talk to me,

A nice little bowl that laughs and sings,

And ever so many other things.

Sometimes they are plainer than I can say,

And while I am waking they go away.

And when nobody is coming by,

I feel my pillow all over and try

And try to feel the pretty things,

The little brown bowl and the flying wings.

[ ]

MISS KATE-MARIE

And it was Sunday everywhere,

And Father pinned a rose on me

And said he guessed he'd better take

Me down to see Miss Kate-Marie.

And when I went it all turned out

To be a Sunday school, and there

Miss Kate-Marie was very good

And let me stand beside her chair.

Her hat was made of yellow lace;

Her dress was very soft and thin,

And when she talked her little tongue

Was always wriggling out and in.

I liked to smell my pretty rose;

I liked to feel her silky dress.

She held a very little book

And asked the things for us to guess.

She asked about Who-made-y-God,

And never seemed to fuss or frown;

I liked to watch her little tongue

And see it wriggle up and down.

[ ]

THE WOODPECKER

The woodpecker pecked out a little round hole

And made him a house in the telephone pole.

One day when I watched he poked out his head,

And he had on a hood and a collar of red.

When the streams of rain pour out of the sky,

And the sparkles of lightning go flashing by,

And the big, big wheels of thunder roll,

He can snuggle back in the telephone pole.

[ ]

THE STAR
(A Song)

O little one away so far,

You cannot hear me when I sing.

You cannot tell me what you are,

I cannot tell you anything.

[ ]

THE BUTTERBEAN TENT

All through the garden I went and went,

And I walked in under the butterbean tent.

The poles leaned up like a good tepee

And made a nice little house for me.

I had a hard brown clod for a seat,

And all outside was a cool green street.

A little green worm and a butterfly

And a cricket-like thing that could hop went by.

Hidden away there were flocks and flocks

Of bugs that could go like little clocks.

Such a good day it was when I spent

A long, long while in the butterbean tent.

[ ]

BIG BROTHER

Our brother Clarence goes to school.

He has a slate and a blue school-bag.

He has a book and a copybook

And a scholar's companion and a little slate rag.

He knows a boy named Joe B. Kirk,

And he learns about c-a-t cat,

And how to play one-two-sky-blue,

And how to make a football out of a hat.

We climb up on the fence and gate

And watch until he's small and dim,

Far up the street, and he looks back

To see if we keep on watching him.

[ ]

MR. WELLS

On Sunday morning, then he comes

To church, and everybody smells

The blacking and the toilet soap

And camphor balls from Mr. Wells.

He wears his whiskers in a bunch,

And wears his glasses on his head.

I mustn't call him Old Man Wells—

No matter—that's what Father said.

And when the little blacking smells

And camphor balls and soap begin,

I do not have to look to know

That Mr. Wells is coming in.

[ ]

DICK AND WILL

Our brother says that Will was born

The very day that Dickie came;

When one is four the other is,

And all their birthdays are the same.

Their coats and waists are just alike;

They have their hats together, too.

They sleep together in one bed,

And Will can put on Dickie's shoe.

But they are not the same at all;

Two different boys they have to be,

For Dick can play in Mother's room

When Will is climbing in a tree.

Or maybe Will is on the porch

To cry because he stubbed his toe,

And Dick is laughing by the gate

And watching ants go in a row.

[ ]

THE PILASTER

The church has pieces jutting out

Where corners of the walls begin.

I have one for my little house,

And I can feel myself go in.

I feel myself go in the bricks,

And I can see myself in there.

I'm always waiting all alone,

I'm sitting on a little chair.

And I am sitting very still,

And I am waiting on and on

For something that is never there,

For something that is gone.

[ ]

FIREFLY
(A Song)

A little light is going by,

Is going up to see the sky,

A little light with wings.

I never could have thought of it,

To have a little bug all lit

And made to go on wings.

[ ]

LITTLE RAIN

When I was making myself a game

Up in the garden, a little rain came.

It fell down quick in a sort of rush,

And I crawled back under the snowball bush.

I could hear the big drops hit the ground

And see little puddles of dust fly round.

A chicken came till the rain was gone;

He had just a very few feathers on.

He shivered a little under his skin,

And then he shut his eyeballs in.

Even after the rain had begun to hush

It kept on raining up in the bush.

One big flat drop came sliding down,

And a ladybug that was red and brown

Was up on a little stem waiting there,

And I got some rain in my hair.

[ ]

THE PULPIT

On Sunday when I go to church

I wear my dress that's trimmed with lace.

I sit beside my mother and

Am very quiet in my place.

When Dr. Brown is reading hymns

To make the people want to sing,

Or when he preaches loud and makes

The shivery bells begin to ring,

I watch the little pulpit house—

It isn't very tall or wide—

And then I wonder all about

The little ones that live inside.

When Dr. Brown has preached enough,

And when he is about to stop,

He stands behind the little house

And shuts the Bible on the top.

I wonder if they sit inside,

And if they cook and walk up stairs.

I wonder if they have a cat

And say some kind of little prayers.

I wonder if they're ever scared

Because the bedroom lamp goes out,

And what their little dreams are like

And what they wonder all about.

[ ]

ON THE HILL

Mother said that we could go

Up on the hill where the strawberries grow.

And while I was there I looked all down,

Over the trees and over the town.

I saw the field where the big boys play,

And the roads that come from every way,

The courthouse place where the wagons stop,

And the bridge and the scales and the blacksmith shop.

The church steeple looked very tall and thin,

And I found the house that we live in.

I saw it under the poplar tree,

And I bent my head and tried to see

Our house when the rain is over it,

And how it looks when the lamps are lit.

I saw the swing from up on the hill,

The ropes were hanging very still.

And over and over I tried to see

Some of us walking under the tree,

And the children playing everywhere,

And how it looks when I am there.

But Dickie said, "Come on, let's race";

And Will had found the strawberry place.

[ ]

AUTUMN

Dick and Will and Charles and I

Were playing it was election day,

And I was running for president,

And Dick was a band that was going to play,

And Charles and Will were a street parade,

But Clarence came and said that he

Was going to run for president,

And I could run for school-trustee.

He made some flags for Charles and Will

And a badge to go on Dickie's coat.

He stood some cornstalks by the fence

And had them for the men that vote.

Then he climbed on a box and made a speech

To the cornstalk men that were in a row.

It was all about the dem-o-crats,

And "I de-fy any man to show."

And "I de-fy any man to say."

And all about "It's a big disgrace."

He spoke his speech out very loud

And shook his fist in a cornstalk's face.