Green Glass Beads Read online

  ‘Just as you will, my dear,’ said I;

  ‘And I thank you for your gold.’

  So here am I in the wattled copse

  Where all the twigs are brown,

  To find what I need, to brew my mead

  As the dark of night comes down.

  Primroses in my old hands,

  Sweet to smell and young,

  And violets blue that spring in the grass

  Wherever the larks have sung.

  With celandines as heavenly crowns

  Yellowy-gold and bright;

  All of these, O all of these,

  Shall bring her love’s delight.

  But orchids growing snakey-green

  Speckled dark with blood,

  And fallen leaves that sered and shrank

  And rotted in the mud,

  With nettles burning blistering harsh

  And blinding thorns above;

  All of these, O all of these

  Shall bring the pains of love.

  Shall bring the pains of love, my Puss,

  That cease not night or day,

  The bitter rage, nought can assuage

  Till it bleeds the heart away.

  Pillycock mine, my hands are full,

  My pot is on the fire.

  Purr, my pet, this fool shall get

  Her fool’s desire.

  Frances Cornford

  Fire, Burn; and Cauldron, Bubble

  from Macbeth

  Round about the cauldron go;

  In the poison’d entrails throw.

  Toad, that under cold stone

  Days and nights has thirty-one

  Swelter’d venom, sleeping got,

  Boil thou first i’th’charmèd pot.

  Double, double toil and trouble:

  Fire, burn; and cauldron, bubble.

  Fillet of a fenny snake,

  In the cauldron boil and bake;

  Eye of newt, and toe of frog,

  Wool of bat, and tongue of dog,

  Adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting,

  Lizard’s leg, and howlet’s wing.

  For a charm of powerful trouble,

  Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.

  Double, double toil and trouble:

  Fire, burn; and cauldron, bubble.

  William Shakespeare

  The Giantess

  Where can I find seven small girls to be pets,

  where can I find them?

  One to comb the long grass of my hair

  with this golden rake,

  one to dig with this copper spade

  the dirt from under my nails.

  I will pay them in crab apples.

  Where can I find seven small girls to help me,

  where can I find them?

  A third to scrub at my tombstone teeth

  with this mop in its bronze bucket,

  a fourth to scoop out the wax from my ears

  with this platinum trowel.

  I will pay them in yellow pears.

  Where can I find seven small girls to be good dears,

  where can I find them?

  A fifth one to clip the nails of my toes

  with these sharp silver shears,

  a sixth to blow my enormous nose

  with this satin sheet.

  I will pay them in plums.

  But the seventh girl will stand on the palm of my hand,

  singing and dancing,

  and I will love the tiny music of her voice,

  her sweet little jigs.

  I will pay her in grapes and kumquats and figs.

  Where can I find her?

  Where can I find seven small girls to be pets?

  Carol Ann Duffy

  CLOTHES

  My Sari

  Saris hang on the washing line:

  a rainbow in our neighbourhood.

  This little orange one is mine,

  it has a mango leaf design.

  I wear it as a Rani would.

  It wraps round me like sunshine,

  it ripples silky down my spine,

  and I stand tall and feel so good.

  Debjani Chatterjee

  My Hat

  Mother said if I wore this hat

  I should be certain to get off with the right sort of chap

  Well look where I am now, on a desert island

  With so far as I can see no one at all on hand

  I know what has happened though I suppose Mother wouldn’t see

  This hat being so strong has completely run away with me

  I had the feeling it was beginning to

  happen the moment I put it on

  What a moment that was as I rose up,

  I rose up like a flying swan

  As strong as a swan too, why see how

  far my hat has flown me away

  It took us a night to come and then a night and a day

  And all the time the swan wing in my hat waved beautifully

  Ah, I thought, how this hat becomes me.

  First the sea was dark but then it was pale blue

  And still the wing beat and we flew and we flew

  A night and a day and a night, and by the old right way

  Between the sun and the moon we flew until morning day.

  It is always early morning here on this peculiar island

  The green grass grows into the sea on the dipping land

  Am I glad I am here? Yes, well, I am,

  It’s nice to be rid of Father, Mother and the young man

  There’s just one thing causes me a twinge of pain,

  If I take my hat off, shall I find myself home again?

  So in this early morning land I always wear my hat

  Go home, you see, well I wouldn’t run a risk like that.

  Stevie Smith

  Purple shoes

  Mum and me had a row yesterday,

  a big, exploding

  howdareyouspeaktomelikethatI’mofftostayatGran’s

  kind of row.

  It was about shoes.

  I’d seen a pair of purple ones at Carter’s,

  heels not too high, soft suede, silver buckles;

  ‘No,’ she said.

  ‘Not suitable for school.

  I can’t afford to buy rubbish.’

  That’s when we had our row.

  I went to bed longing for those shoes.

  They made footsteps in my mind,

  kicking up dance dust;

  I wore them in my dreams across a shiny floor,

  under flashing coloured lights.

  It was ruining my life not to have them.

  This morning they were mine.

  Mum relented and gave me the money.

  I walked out of the store wearing new purple shoes.

  I kept seeing myself reflected in shop windows

  with purple shoes on,

  walking to the bus stop,

  walking the whole length of our street

  wearing purple shoes.

  On Monday I shall go to school in purple shoes.

  Mum will say no a thousand furious times

  But I don’t care.

  I’m not going to give in.

  Irene Rawnsley

  Red Boots On

  Way down Geneva,

  All along Vine,

  Deeper than the snow drift

  Love’s eyes shine.

  Mary lou’s walking

  In the winter time.

  She’s got

  Red boots on, she’s got

  Red boots on,

  Kicking up the winter

  Till the winter’s gone.

  So

  Go by Ontario,

  Look down Main,

  If you can’t find Mary lou,

  Come back again.

  Sweet light burning

  In winter’s flame.

  She’s got

  Snow in her eyes, got

  A tingle in her toes

  And new red boots on