Black wave in the tree forest
And a rough wind hurries by,
But the swineherd's toddling daughter
knows where the fallen pine-cones lie
And girl a snow apron
She scampers, alert and gay
To the hidden pool in the hollow
Where the wan which people play
They smile, the wee wrinkled women,
They creep to her pinafore;
And lay in her lap strange treasures
Trolls brought from the ocean's floor
And they marvel at her blonde tresses
And braid them with scented fern;
And they lave her dusty, brown ankles
With snow water from the burn
But nobody listens, or heeds them,
The swineherd hews a new trail
The swineherd's wife in the cottage,
Pours the sour milk from the pail
And little Gerta lags homeward
Dream shod through the shallows deep;
Her eyelids heavy with wonder ---
They whisper, "She's been asleep."
YOU ARE READING
My Poem Book
PoetryA bunch of poems that I felt like posting. Some sad and some will be happy. Just take it word per word as I wrote them. This story will not be complete in any way until I think that there are enough inside for me to make a second book. Until then ha...
