Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE FLOWER GIRL (REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE), by WILLIAM ROSE BENET


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE FLOWER GIRL (REIGN OF QUEEN ANNE), by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Chimney-pot to chimney-pot who is it creeps
Last Line: Nicolo night-cap, say, is it you?
Subject(s): Imagination; Fancy


Chimney-pot to chimney-pot who is it creeps,
Whisking on the slates of the roof above my bed?
Black cats, rusty bats, little inky sweeps
Dusting with their besoms the tiles overhead?
Whimper, whimper, wind down the fire-grate flue!
Rattle, little window! What shall I do?
Nicolo Night-cap, say, is it you?

I'll draw up my coverlid, red and blue and green,
Tufted and flowered and patchwork-made.
How the mad yellow moonlight dances on the screen
And fills my little closet, and makes me afraid!
The cobwebs wink up there in the corner by the flue,
And the bedstead shakes, and the fire burns blue!
Nicolo Night-cap, what shall I do?

Right up next the sky they've tucked me away,
For the pennies come few in the long street-hours.
The sparrows look in when the sun shouts, "Day!"
Men wake to their work and I to sell them flowers,
With my panniers and my kerchief and my smile -- but whiles
'Tis gray and drizzly weather for the best of smiles!

Hist! I'll tell you of Nicolo! He's spry as a rat.
He's a peeping, squeaking brownie, and a chimney elf.
And -- he wears a cotton night-cap instead of a hat,
And -- he dances on the roof-tops and whispers to himself.
He'll slide down the rain-spout and peep right through
My little yellow window. Then what shall I do?
Nicolo Night-cap, say, is it you?

One night I dreamed of farthings, and -- pop! -- like that,
He stood by my bed and whisked me up the wall.
And we danced down the roof-tops that lie so far and flat
Up there next the moon, where there's nothing else at all.
And he whispered down the stars for hours and hours,
Till they overflowed my apron like a lapful of flowers.

They ruffled soft and blue and flowery-red and green.
I held both arms, and they heaped my apron high.
I sold them on the Strand to the ladies of the Queen,
Billowy dames, pompous peers, and the beaux that pass me by.
But the squeaking, tweaking brownies on the roof overhead
Were hard on my heels when I tumbled back to bed!

Chimney-pot to chimney-pot, hear the brownie creep!
Nicolo Night-cap, my mind's all awhirl!
The little yellow window just begs him to peep.
Who'll help or who'll comfort a small flower-girl?
Whimper, whimper, wind down the fire-grate flue!
Rattle, little window! What shall I do?
Nicolo Night-cap, say, is it you?





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net