Once from a big, big building,
When I was small, small,
The queer folk in the windows
Would smile at me and call.
And in the hard wee gardens
Such pleasant men would hoe:
"Sir, may we touch the little girl's hair!"—
It was so red, you know.
They cut me coloured asters
With shears so sharp and neat,
They brought me grapes and plums and pears
And pretty cakes to eat.
And out of all the windows,
No matter where we went,
The merriest eyes would follow me
And make me compliment.
There were a thousand windows,
All latticed up and down.
And up to all the windows,
When we went back to town,
The queer folk put their faces,
As gentle as could be;
"Come again, little girl!" they called, and I
Called back, "You come see me!"
Sad at the thought of so many lattice windows but love the gentle appreciation of youth.
What a wonderfully angelic poem about a little girls fond and innocent memories. Oh how sweet dear Edna must have been. I'm sad that decades separate us for I would have much enjoyed her company........
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Tender, sweet, counters all the 'asylum' stereotypes of the time.