CHILD WHISPERS
By
ENID BLYTON
LONDON
J. SAVILLE & CO. LIMITED
EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHERS,
5, GOWER STREET, W.C.I
1923
DEDICATED TO FOUR LITTLE BROTHERS
DAVID, BRIAN, PETER
AND JOHN
CONTENTS
Preface
Rosamunda
Disappointment
On Strike
Fairy Sight
A Fairy Necklace
Paying a Call
Before Breakfast
Goblins
The Fairy’s Bedtime
Poppies
A Queer Butterfly
Lovely Frocks
The Jolly Wind
The Witch’s Balloons
Fairy Music
The Little Folk on the Hill
The Moon at Tea-Time
April
The Silent Pool
This Afternoon
The “Feeling”
The Naughty Gnome
Six o’clock
The Imp’s Mistake
Put to Bed
The Merry Breeze
An Accident
A Happy Ending
PREFACE
The children of nowadays are different in many of their likes and dislikes, from the children of ten years ago. This change of attitude is noticeable as much in the world of children’s poetry as it is in other things.
In my experience of teaching I have found the children delight in two distinct types of verses. These are the humorous type and the imaginative poetical type—but the humour must be from the child’s point of view and not from the “grown-up’s”—a very different thing. And the imagination in the second type of poem must be clear and whimsical, otherwise the appeal fails and the child does not respond.
As I found a lack of suitable poems of the types I wanted, I began to write them myself for the children under my supervision, taking, in many cases, the ideas, humorous or whimsical, of the children themselves, as the theme of the poems. Finding them to be successful, I continued, until the suggestion was made to me that many children, other than those in my own school, might enjoy hearing and learning the poems. Accordingly this collection of verses is put forward in the hope that it will be a source of sincere enjoyment to the little people of the world.
ENID BLYTON.
ROSAMUNDA
Rosamunda’s walking,
And to her surprise she hears
Lots of fairies talking.
Where they can be hiding;
Not on any butterfly
Nor bee, are they a-riding.
And finds a sight of wonder,
For out pop fairy elves and say,
“Good-morning, Rosamunda!”
DISAPPOINTMENT
In my cup of tea.
She was nearly drowned
And wet as wet could be.
And asked her if she’d stay;
“Oh, no,” she said, “I mustn’t,”
And off she flew away.
ON STRIKE
I’m afraid they’ve gone on strike;
They won’t let me undress them,
But just do what they like.
To spend on Saturday,
And ’less I let them have it,
They’ll not join in my play.
They’ll never grow up right—
But I know they will be sorry
When I don’t kiss them good-night.
FAIRY SIGHT
In the middle of the night,
Wrap the blanket round you,
And shut your eyes up tight.
Say “Akral dafarray!”
And open your right eye,
And (if you’ve been a good child)
A fairy flutters by!
A FAIRY NECKLACE
And then the sun shone fair,
And all the garden glittered
With raindrops everywhere!
And raindrops on the trees,
And how they shook and shivered,
Like diamonds, in the breeze!
Come flying right by me;
She shook a score of raindrops,
From off the hazel tree.
A necklace made of rain!
She clasped them round her little neck,
And off she flew again!
PAYING A CALL
And my frock with the frilly lace,
I took my sunshade, and held it up,
To keep the sun off my face.
And have pretty cakes for tea,
And sit on the edge of a chair and talk
With a tea-cup on my knee.
Till I came to Mrs. Leroy’s.
I climbed the steps, and I rang the bell—
It made such a jangley noise.
And couldn’t think what I would say
When they opened the door—so I jumped
the steps,
And I ran back home all the way.
And oh, how she scolded me!
And that’s why I’m wearing an overall now,
And not having jam for tea.
BEFORE BREAKFAST
bright with dew,
And I have to put goloshes on my feet.
I’ll tell you all I do there, right away from
people’s view,
When the world is half-awake and very
sweet.
fly out,
And I see how much they’ve grown since
yesterday.
I pop the fattest fuchsia buds, if gardener’s
not about,
And I blow the dandelion clocks away.
well,
I take the rose-leaves fallen down beyond;
They’re pink and white and beautiful, just like
a fairy shell,
And I save them up for sailing on the pond.
new mown hay,
And I feel the wind that blows the clouds
along;
I think there never, never could be such a
lovely day—
And then, I hear that horrid breakfast gong!
GOBLINS
ever right,
Then Mummy says there’s naughty goblins,
hiding out of sight,
Who try to make me do what’s wrong, and try
to make me bad,
They like me to forget things, and make other
people sad.
where to look,
I’ve only seen them in the pages of my
picture-book,
But oh, I’m sure they’re all about in
everybody’s house,
Little creepy-crawley things, as quiet as a
mouse.
Sunday cake,
And gardener breaks the barrow-wheel, and
loses Daddie’s rake,
And Nurse is very cross indeed, and won’t let
me go out,
I always know those nasty little goblins are
about.
goblins even there,
Altho’ it’s such a lovely house, I can’t think
how they dare,
But often Peter’s Daddie is as grumpy as can
be,
All over nothing, so the goblins must be there,
you see.
away,
To try and see those goblins, and I’m sure I
shall some day.
And if they bother you at all, you try and
catch them, too,
And will you save them up for me to look at,
if you do?
THE FAIRY’S BEDTIME
The fairy babes are told
To sit upon their toadstools, and
To be as good as gold.
It’s supper-time, they know,
For look, their little acorn cups
Are standing in a row.
With dew and honey sweet
And gives one to each little babe
With something nice to eat.
And curl themselves up tight
Inside a leaf that’s soft and warm,
And there they sleep all night.
POPPIES
A little hill you climb,
And at the top on either side
There is in Summer time—
A cornfield waving in the wind,
Where poppies shake their head
And peep at you between the corn,
A glowing dancing red—
I’ll tell you what I did one day
When nurse was cross with me,
And pulled my hair back in a plait,
As tight as tight could be—
I crept up to the swaying corn
And in the poppies there
I sat down by myself, and then
I undid all my hair!
I picked some gleaming poppies red,
The biggest I could find,
I wound them tightly in my curls,
And some hung down behind.
I walked about so very grand
Till it began to rain,
When one by one the poppies fell,
And I went home again.
A QUEER BUTTERFLY
In Marianna’s net.
It was the sweetest blue and gold,
The prettiest I’d seen yet.
The butterfly should be
Not mine, but hers, because the net
Belonged to her, not me.
Until my frock was torn,
And then she pointed down to where
The net lay, on the lawn.
And spread its wings of blue,
And then stood up, just fancy that!
You’d hardly think it true!
A fairy, come to play,
And all because we quarrelled so,
She fluttered right away.
LOVELY FROCKS
lovely frocks,
I know because I’ve seen them hanging
there;
There’s purple, and there’s orange, and a frilly
one of blue,
And a yellow that is shiny like her hair.
fairy Queen—
But she can’t cuddle me at all in those—
And when she wears a silken frock, it rustles
like the trees—
But I can’t kiss her ’cos I spoils the bows.
looks so grand,
What I like really best of all to see,
Is when she’s in the garden, wearing just an
overall—
And comes to romp and play about with me.
THE JOLLY WIND
“Three cheers for the sun to-day,
Just look at him shining away in the sky!
Do come along, children, and play!
And I’ll spin the old weather-cock round!
I’ll send your boats sailing away down the
stream,
Till bump! they have all come aground!
And hear how it groans and it creaks;
Just see how I tweak off your bonnets and caps,
And hear all the laughter and shrieks!
I’ll spin you around and about!
Oh, hurry up, children, and come out of school,
Hurrah!” says the wind, with a shout!
THE WITCH’S BALLOONS
brown,
I should think she was the very oldest person
in the town,
She sold balloons to children as they passed
her corner there,
She was very cross and horrid and she had a
nasty stare.
windy day,
And she saw me and she stared at me in such
a nasty way,
I felt afraid, and certain sure that she must be
a witch,
And keep all sorts of stolen treasures hidden
in a ditch.
at me,
I saw a fairy flying low from out the chestnut
tree,
She held a little knife, and oh, she cut the
strings right through,
That held the big balloons together, then away
she flew!
all the pink,
A-flying in the air as high as ever you could
think,
Around the chimney pots, and right away up
in the sky,
Until they bumped into the clouds, a-sailing
slowly by.
had to say,
But there wasn’t any sign of her, she’d
vanished right away,
She must have been a wicked witch, and by
the fairies slain,
For tho’ I’ve looked each morning, she has
never come again.
FAIRY MUSIC
Beneath a harebell blue;
I sat me down upon the moss
And blew a note or two.
Around me in the sun,
And little mice and velvet moles
Came creeping, one by one.
A robin on my thumb,
The thrushes sang in tune with me,
The bees began to hum.
And wished they’d always stay,
When down a little fairy flew
And snatched my flute away!
And gone were all the bees,
The rabbits ran, and I was left
Alone among the trees!
THE LITTLE FOLK ON THE HILL
There’s a queer little seat made of stone,
And sometimes I climb up the heathery slope.
And sit in the wind all alone.
(It’s almost too tiny for me)
But I love to squeeze into it on a clear day,
And look over the hills to the sea.
sounds
And voices, and tho’ I’ve kept still,
I’ve only seen one of the queer Little Folk
That I know live inside of the hill.
And on it sat one of the Folk!
He was looking across all the hills to the sea,
But he vanished away when I spoke.
there,
And why it’s small even for me;
The Folk put it there in the wind, for they love
To look over the hills to the sea.
THE MOON AT TEA-TIME
not a single tree,
I was throwing bits of sorrel at a fat old
bumble-bee,
And then—I just looked up to see the clouds
go sailing by—
And oh, I saw the moon, in daytime! and I
can’t think why!
they’ve happened all to-day,
First, I found a weeny mouse, all cuddled in
the hay,
Then at home we’ve got a baby, from I don’t
know where!
And now I find the moon at tea-time, sitting in
the air!
meant for night,
And look, it hides behind the clouds—it knows
it isn’t right.
Now there it comes! Oh, silly moon, you make
the sun look fine,
’Cos bumping up against the clouds has
rubbed off all your shine!
APRIL
brings the rain,
April hangs a hundred sunny raindrops in the
lane,
She can wash the sky with woolly clouds of
purest white,
And gaily dress it up in rainbows, curving out
of sight.
of white and pink,
And kisses all the primroses along the river’s
brink,
She peeps into the tiny nests where eggs are
hidden well,
And searches out the purple violets growing in
the dell.
against the sky
And chases all the bob-tail rabbits scuttling
gaily by,
She dances with the meadow cowslips, drooping
heads of gold,
Oh, April is the sweetest month that any year
can hold!
THE SILENT POOL
There’s a pool that is purplish green,
With whispering rushes around,
That murmur of things they have seen.
And heard why the pool lies alone;
Not even a fairy goes near
And only the sad rushes moan.
Who weaved wicked spells night and day,
And used the pool’s purplish deeps
For things which I wouldn’t dare say.
And never was seen any more,
But silent and still lay the pool,
And darker than ever before.
And none guesses what secrets lie
Hid safely away in its deeps,
But shuddering, all pass it by.
And pass where the pool lies alone—
Not even a fairy goes near,
And only the sad rushes moan!
THIS AFTERNOON
And all the sky is blue,
The busy bees are humming loud,
They have a lot to do.
Where all the daisies grow,
And watch the little breezes bend
The grasses to and fro.
I want to watch the butterflies,
And hear the cuckoo call,
I’d cuckoo back to see if he
Would answer me at all.
Upon the dry brown earth,
And shiny beetles race along
The ground, for all they’re worth.
I want to lie down on the grass
And look up at the sky,
It looks so queer and far away
And wonderfully high.
With lovely things to see;
Oh, why must I in my best frock
Be taken out to tea?
THE “FEELING”
That wakes when I see a rose,
Or the snow, or sunshine, or daisy fields;
It wakes for a time—and then goes.
Right over the sky so wide,
And the sunshine gleams thro’ the pouring rain,
I get that “Feeling” inside.
And look thro’ my window pane,
And find the snow on the trees and fields,
I get the Feeling again.
On a stormy and windy tide,
And crashes against the rocks in spray,
I get the Feeling inside.
But I’m not going to tell her again.
She didn’t know at all what I meant,
She called my Feeling a pain!
THE NAUGHTY GNOME
Once found a pot of glue,
And he of course began to think
What mischief he could do!
Whereon the fairies sat,
And oh, how cross they were to find
A naughty trick like that!
To catch the fairies’ feet,
When there came by the Fairy King
And Queen with all their suite.
And found he couldn’t stir!
Then came the frightened gnome, and cried,
“Oh, please have mercy, Sir!
Within my sticky glue,
But please forgive me and I’ll find
Some better thing to do!”
“But harken what I say,
Go, use your glue on chestnut buds,
To keep the frost away.”
The gnome works all day long,
And if you touch a bud, you’ll find
His glue is very strong!
SIX O’CLOCK
When Nurse is still asleep;
She’s hidden under all the clothes,
Her breathes are loud and deep.
And so we just turn round
And hear the milk-carts going by,
They have a tinny sound.
I count the cracks I see,
And all the flies upon the wall;
Once there were twenty-three!
The eiderdown, and blows
With all his might, to make them drop
On top of Nurse’s nose.
That feel so very cold;
They go quite dull till Teddie rubs,
And makes them shine like gold.
If you wake early, too,
And mustn’t talk till seven strikes,
You’ll know just what to do.
THE IMP’S MISTAKE
An imp as black as soot
Came down the chimney in a bound,
And landed by her foot!
A frown came on his face,
He thought it was a piece of coal
A-tumbled from its place!
To put it back again
Upon the fire, when Anna woke
And gave a cry of pain!
“Just leave my foot alone!”
And in a trice the imp had jumped
And up the chimney flown!
It’s better, on the whole,
To keep awake, in case that imp
Should think your shoes are coal!
PUT TO BED
The gardener’s mowing grass,
He’s doing it with all his might,
I hear his footsteps pass.
Because I’ve not been good;
I think her heart is hard as stone—
I didn’t think she would.
I’ll tell you what I’ve done.
I took a pencil that I had,
A lovely orange one.
The dining room and hall,
And trees that grew up from the ground,
Right up the nursery wall.
I know just how they’re made,
When Nurse came in, so cross and red,
It made me feel afraid.
So wickedly before;
She made me go upstairs to bed,
And then she banged the door.
And all the bricks I’d built;
There’s nothing here that’s nice at all,
’Cept Grannie’s patchwork quilt!
THE MERRY BREEZE
little breeze,
Playing with the butterflies and teasing all
the bees,
Sending showers of apple-blossom down upon
the ground,
And spilling half the dew-drops from the
grasses all around.
by,
And hustled all the lazy clods that floated in
the sky,
He swung the beeches to and fro, then darted
off again
To dry the shiny puddles scattered down along
the lane.
kind of way,
Until at last the little breeze was weary of his
play;
He crept back to the orchard, where the
daffodillies peep,
And there it was I found him lying, curled up
fast asleep!
AN ACCIDENT
With a pointed top,
And on it, watching us at play,
The fairies often stop.
And frightened them away,
Because, by accident, our ball
Struck two of them to-day.
And hurt the fairies there;
They flew away with cries of pain,
And said it wasn’t fair.
And watch the pointed top.
But now, tho’ fairies fly around,
They never come to stop.
A HAPPY ENDING
All ready waiting there for me,
So in I jumped and off we sped,
To gleaming waters far ahead.
And clouds filled all the sunny sky,
The sea was speckled with the rain,
And my ship rolled and rolled again.
The sails dripped rain-drops down my neck,
Then straight ahead, I spied a rock,
And braced myself to meet the shock—
While rain and storm around us played;
The ship at once began to fill,
And down and down we sank—until
Half-drowning in the racing tide.
And just as mast and rigging broke,
I found myself in bed—and WOKE!