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Katherine Mansfield Short Poems

Famous Short Katherine Mansfield Poems. Short poetry by famous poet Katherine Mansfield. A collection of the all-time best Katherine Mansfield short poems


by Katherine Mansfield
 In the middle of our porridge plates
There was a blue butterfly painted
And each morning we tried who should reach the
butterfly first.
Then the Grandmother said: "Do not eat the poor butterfly.
" That made us laugh.
Always she said it and always it started us laughing.
It seemed such a sweet little joke.
I was certain that one fine morning The butterfly would fly out of our plates, Laughing the teeniest laugh in the world, And perch on the Grandmother's lap.



by Katherine Mansfield
 Baby Babbles--only one,
Now to sit up has begun.
Little Babbles quite turned two Walks as well as I and you.
And Miss Babbles one, two, three, Has a teaspoon at her tea.
But her Highness at four Learns to open the front door.
And her Majesty--now six, Can her shoestrings neatly fix.
Babbles, babbles, have a care, You will soon put up your hair!

by Katherine Mansfield
 These be two
Countrywomen.
What a size! Grand big arms And round red faces; Big substantial Sit-down-places; Great big bosoms firm as cheese Bursting through their country jackets; Wide big laps And sturdy knees; Hands outspread, Round and rosy, Hands to hold A country posy Or a baby or a lamb-- And such eyes! Stupid, shifty, small and sly Peeping through a slit of sty, Squinting through their neighbours' plackets.

by Katherine Mansfield
 Little Star, little Star,
Come down quick.
The Moon is a bogey-man; He'll eat you certain if he can.
Little Star, little Star, Come down quick! Little Star, little Star, Whisper "Yes.
" The trees are just niggers all, They look so black, the are so tall.
Little Star, little Star, Whisper "Yes" Little Star, little Star, Gone--all gone.
The bogey-man swallowed you, The nigger trees are laughing too.
Little Star, little Star, Gone--all gone.

by Katherine Mansfield
 In the profoundest ocean
There is a rainbow shell,
It is always there, shining most stilly
Under the greatest storm waves
That the old Greek called "ripples of laughter.
" As you listen, the rainbow shell Sings--in the profoundest ocean.
It is always there, singing most silently!

by Katherine Mansfield
 Babies must not eat the coal
And they must not make grimaces,
Nor in party dresses roll
And must never black their faces.
They must learn that pointing's rude, They must sit quite still at table, And must always eat the food Put before them--if they're able.
If they fall, they must not cry, Though it's known how painful this is; No--there's always Mother by Who will comfort them with kisses.

by Katherine Mansfield
 Sing a song of men's pyjamas,
Half-past-six has got a pair,
And he's wearing them this evening,
And he's looking such a dear.
Sing a song of frocks with pockets I have got one, it is so's I can use my `nitial hankies Every time I blow my nose.



by Katherine Mansfield
 Across the red sky two birds flying,
Flying with drooping wings.
Silent and solitary their ominous flight.
All day the triumphant sun with yellow banners Warred and warred with the earth, and when she yielded Stabbed her heart, gathered her blood in a chalice, Spilling it over the evening sky.
When the dark plumaged birds go flying, flying, Quiet lies the earth wrapt in her mournful shadow, Her sightless eyes turned to the red sky And the restlessly seeking birds.

Stars  Create an image from this poem
by Katherine Mansfield
 Most merciful God
Look kindly upon
An impudent child
Who wants sitting on.
This evening late I went to the door And then to the gate There were more stars--more Than I could have expected, Even I! I was amazed, Almighty, August! I was utterly dazed, Omnipotent! Just In a word I was floored, Good God of Hosts--Lord! That at this time of day They should still blaze away, That thou hadst not rejected Or at least circumspected Their white silver beauty-- Was it spite? Was it duty?

by Katherine Mansfield
 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,
Someone is sweeping, sweeping,
Some old gardener.
Out in the windy, swinging dark, Someone is secretly putting in order, Someone is creeping, creeping.

by Katherine Mansfield
 In an opal dream cave I found a fairy:
Her wings were frailer than flower petals,
Frailer far than snowflakes.
She was not frightened, but poised on my finger, Then delicately walked into my hand.
I shut the two palms of my hands together And held her prisoner.
I carried her out of the opal cave, Then opened my hands.
First she became thistledown, Then a mote in a sunbeam, Then--nothing at all.
Empty now is my opal dream cave.

by Katherine Mansfield
 Playing in the fire and twilight together,
My little son and I,
Suddenly--woefully--I stoop to catch him.
"Try, mother, try!" Old Nurse Silence lifts a silent finger: "Hush! cease your play!" What happened? What in that tiny moment Flew away?

by Katherine Mansfield
 A Gulf of silence separates us from each other.
I stand at one side of the gulf, you at the other.
I cannot see you or hear you, yet know that you are there.
Often I call you by your childish name And pretend that the echo to my crying is your voice.
How can we bridge the gulf? Never by speech or touch.
Once I thought we might fill it quite up with tears.
Now I want to shatter it with our laughter.

by Katherine Mansfield
 There is a solemn wind to-night
That sings of solemn rain;
The trees that have been quiet so long
Flutter and start again.
The slender trees, the heavy trees, The fruit trees laden and proud, Lift up their branches to the wind That cries to them so loud.
The little bushes and the plants Bow to the solemn sound, And every tiniest blade of grass Shakes on the quiet ground.