Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PETER PAN, by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PETER PAN, by                    
First Line: Among the joys that winter brings
Last Line: Of hyacinths and daffodils!
Subject(s): London; Seasons


AMONG the joys that winter brings,
Is going out and buying things.
When all the shops look warm and bright
With gas and with electric light,
Suggestive in their fine array
Of Santa Claus and Christmas Day,
And all the windows seem to try
To make you go inside and buy.
And when you're going home to tea,
It's nice—if you look up—to see
The stars that twinkle row by row,
All lit by half-past four or so;
The very same that seldom peep
In summer till you've gone to sleep;
It's nice to see them now instead
Of after you have gone to bed.
I do not mean, of course, that when
There's rain and fog you'll see them then.
Then you will watch the buses slide
And spatter mud on every side;
Perhaps you'll get some on your hair,
And if you do you will not care;
And if it goes on nurse's dress,
You'll view the fact with cheerfulness;
And if she gets it in her eye,
You'll simply thrill with ecstasy;
And if it goes in yours, why then
She'll help to take it out again.
And when you take a cab or train,
From "Peter Pan," or Drury Lane—
When heads are full of fairy caves,
Of pirates and of Indian braves—
You'll see the lamps on every hand
Go swinging up and down the Strand,
And know that London town o' nights,
Is just as full of rich delights,
Of magic and of mystery,
As ever fairy cave could be:
Perhaps you'll find in after years
That London Town has toil and tears,—
Well, if you do, the wisest plan
Is just to visit "Peter Pan"!
But best of winter joys you'll find,
Is—when they've drawn the nursery blind—
To think before you go to bed,
(When through the bars the fire grows red,
And dances on the painted shelves,
Until the very toys themselves
Seem quite alive, and dancing too),
About the lovely things you'll do,
When Spring puts on a wondrous dress
Of little yellow crocuses,
And whispers at the window-sills
Of hyacinths and daffodils!





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