Читать книгу Auld Lang Syne - Various - Страница 11

Gently, no pushing; there’s room to sit

   All three without grumbling,

One in front, two behind, well you fit,

   And mamma to hold you from tumbling.

   Rock, rock, old rocking chair,

   You’ll last us a long time with care,

      And still without balking

         Of us four any one,

      From rocking and talking —

         That is what we call fun.

Curtains drawn, and no candles lit,

   Great red caves in the fire,

This is the time for us four to sit

   Rocking and talking all till we tire.

   Rock, rock, old rocking chair,

   How the fire-light glows up there,

      Red on the white ceiling;

   The shadows every one

      Might be giants, reeling

   On their great heads, for fun.

Shall we call this a boat out at sea,

   We, four sailors rowing?

Can you fancy it well?  As for me

   I feel the salt wind blowing.

Up, up and down, lazy boat,

On the top of a wave we float,

   Down we go with a rush;

      Far off I see a strand

   Glimmer; our boat we’ll push

      Ashore on Fairy-land.

The fairy people come running

   To meet us down on the sand,

Each holding out toward us the very thing

   We’ve long wished for, held in his hand.

Up, up again; one wave more

Holds us back from the fairy shore;

   Let’s pull all together,

      Then with it, up we’ll climb,

   To the always fine weather

      That makes up fairy time.

Come to us through the dark, children,

   Hark! the fairy people call,

But a step between us and you, children,

   And in Fairy-land room for us all.

Climb the main and you will be

Landed safe in gay Fairie,

   Sporting, feasting, both night and noon,

      No pause in fairy pleasures;

   Silver ships that sail to the moon,

      Magic toys for treasures.

Ah! the tide sweeps us out of our track,

   The glimmer dies in the fire,

There’s no climbing the wave that holds back

   Just the things that we all most desire!

Never mind, rock, rocking-chair;

While there’s room for us four there,

   To sit by fire-light swinging,

      Till some one open the door,

   Birds in their own nest singing

      Ain’t happier than we four.