POEMS BY ERNESTINE COBERN BEYER
THE MAGICAL HAT
LEO HARRINGTON |
Patrick was
hunting, one Halloween day,
Through a
trunkful of treasures long hidden away,
When much to
the pleasure and profit of Pat,
He came on a
wonderful magical hat.
Well, quite
as if this were his usual habit,
He put in
his hand, and he drew out a rabbit.
Pleased, but
not thrilled into shivers and chills,
Pat
muttered: "That trick is as old as the hills!"
Then
thoughtfully scratching his smart little head,
"I
think I will pull out some people!" he said.
And
he did! From that hat so imposing
and tall,
He pulled
out a lady in bonnet and shawl.
A dignified
man and his neighbor came next,
And one or
two more whose expressions were vexed.
"I,"
said the lady, "was having a nap!"
"And
I," said a man, "was at dinner, young chap!"
"I,"
sniffed the neighbor, "was feeding my cats!"
"We hate,"
they all cried, "to be pulled out of hats!"
With
this, looking ever so grumpy and glum,
They jumped
in the hat out of which they had come,
And --
pffftt! -- they all vanished! "Now,
that,"
approved
Patrick,
"Is
what I would call a remarkable hat trick!"
The Magical Broom
It was Halloween night when I noticed my
broom
With which I had lately been sweeping my
room.
Seeing it move, I remarked with surprise:
"I cannot and will not believe my own
eyes!
A broom doesn't move from its place by the
shelf!
A broom is a broom!" I declared to
myself.
Yet it struck me as strange when I noticed,
my dears,
That the broomstick was growing a couple of
ears;
And I have to admit that I turned rather
pale
When all of a sudden it sprouted a tail.
Said I to myself: "I am dreaming, of
course!
A broom doesn't turn itself into a
horse!"
Refusing to look at the broom any more,
I hurried away, and I opened the door.
But there I was stopped by a queer little
sound.
I paused with a shiver, and glancing
around,
I lectured myself in my sensible way:
"You're hearing things, silly! A broom doesn't neigh!"
But the broom had become a complete little
horse!
He pawed at the carpet and whinnied at me:
"Hop up!" he invited, as plain as
could be.
So I climbed on his back as he wanted me
to,
Then out of the window he happily flew!
Feeling as if I had saddled a breeze,
I clung to his mane as he hurdled the
trees.
Gracefully rising, he headed for Mars,
And the street that he galloped was cobbled
with stars!
Now suddenly witches appeared in the night
And followed behind like the tail of a
kite.
Uttering horrible cackles and croaks,
They swooped all around in their fluttering
cloaks.
Heavens to Betsy! A spooky parade--
But somehow or other, I wasn't afraid!
As my broom and I traveled that shimmering
land,
The Man in the Moon waved a glimmering hand
And cheerfully hailed me, inviting me,
please,
To stop for a bite of delicious green
cheese;
But before I could answer a yes or a no,
We were sliding the sky to the valley
below.
I was back in my own little cottage again.
I looked at my broom very sternly, and then
Said I: "I have never been out of
this room!
It couldn't have happened! A broom is a broom!”
And untangling a cloud from its bristles--once more,
I stood it aslant in its place by the door.
No comments:
Post a Comment