Poem by Josephine Preston Peabody

The Busy Child

I have so many things to do,
I don't know when I shall be through.

To-day I had to watch the rain
Come sliding down the window-pane.

And I was humming, all the time,
Around my head, a kind of rhyme,

And blowing softly on the glass,
To see the dimness come and pass.

I made a picture, with my breath
Rubbed out to show the underneath.

I built a city on the floor;
And then I went and was a War.--

And I escaped, from square to square
That's greener on the carpet, there,

Until at last, I came to Us:
But it was very dangerous.--

Because, if I had stepped Outside,
I made believe I should have died!

   *   *   *   *   *

And now I have the boat to mend;
And all our supper to pretend.

I am so Busy, all the day,
I haven't any time to play.

1. The Sorrows
2. Spinning in April
3. Little Side-Streets
4. Church-Time
5. The Wind's East

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