Climb the beanstalk

Ho, Giant! ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
I have built me a bean-stalk into your sky!
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦

¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ I came,—I put
Here my knee, there my foot,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ up, from shoot to shoot—
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ the mischief all the time,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ rocking, spinning,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dizzy, sunny circle,
¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ above the cackle
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ I was born in,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ little dirty city
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ sheer and sunny
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dazzling bright and pretty
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
In a dream of finding money—
What a wind! ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦

¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ tiny, shiny city,
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ shot a glance below,
Shaken with a giddy laughter,
Sick ¦¦¦ blissfully afraid,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ dew-drop on a blade,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ moments after
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ guess I made,—
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ wind ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ whip

¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ past my icy ears,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ hair stood out behind,
¦¦¦ my eyes were full of tears,
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
More tears than they could hold,
¦¦¦ wind was blowing ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ in ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
Dry and grinning,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ felt my foot slip,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ scratched the wind and whined,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ clutched the stalk ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ eyes shut ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
What a wind! What a wind!

Your ¦¦¦¦¦ sky, Giant,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ shelf of a cupboard;
¦¦¦ make bean-stalks, ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ builder, like yourself,
¦¦¦ bean-stalks is my trade,
¦¦¦ couldn't make a shelf,
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
Now, a bean-stalk is more pliant—
La, what a climb!


(Blackout of The Bean-Stalk by Edna St Vincent Millay)