Nostalgia, and some poems.

The other day, I got quite nostalgic about my school days.

I subscribe to the Readers' Digest, and was reading the latest issue. A was reading her book beside me. She kept stealing glances at me. Finally, she asked, "Why do you always read this?" The obvious answer was that I enjoyed reading it. However, I took a moment to think about it. The reason was that old habits die hard. I told her that when I was a child in school, we had a library class every week. On the 1st such class each month, we were issued out a back copy of the digest. We were supposed to read it and write a review on any one full-length article that interested us. I have been addicted to the magazine ever since.

We went on to talk about other things I had done at school. Knowing that she loved poetry in any form, I told her about some of the poems I had done at school. I did not remember them completely, so we googled them. Here they are, a few of those poems which invoke nostalgia in me.

THE BIRDIE POEM
What does the little birdie say
In her nest at peep of day?
Let me fly, says little birdie,
Mother, let me fly away.
Birdie, rest a little longer,
Till the little wings are stronger.
So she rests a little longer,
Then she flies away.
What does little baby say,
In her bed at peep of day?
Baby says, like little birdie,
Let me rise and fly away.
Baby, sleep a little longer,
Till the little limbs are stronger.
If she sleeps a little longer,
Baby, too, shall fly away.

By Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

We spoke about the time when A took her first steps. How she wanted to explore anything with her newfound ability. This was followed by:

THE TWINS
In form and feature, face and limb,
I grew so like my brother,
That folk got taking me for him,
And each for one another.
It puzzled all our kith and kin,
It reached an awful pitch;
For one of us was born a twin,
Yet not a soul knew which.

One day ( to make the matter worse),
Before our names were fixed,
As we were being bathed by nurse
We got completely mixed;
And thus, you see, by Fate's decree,
(Or rather nurse's whim),
My brother John got christened me,
And I got christened him.

This total likeness even dogged
My footsteps when at school,
And I was always getting flogged,
For John turned out a fool.
I put this question hopelessly
To everyone I knew...
What would you do, if you were me,
To prove that you were you?

Our close resemblence turned the tide
Of my domestic life,
For somehow my intended bride
Became my brother's wife.
In short year after year the same
Absurd mistakes went on;
And when I died...the neighbours came
And buried brother John!


By Henry S. Leigh.


Had a good laugh over the twins. And then we had:


SOMEONE

Someone came knocking
At my wee, small door,
Someone came knocking,
I'm sure-sur-sure.
I listened, I opened.
I looked to left and right.
But nought there was a stirring
In the still, dark night.
Only the busy beetle
Tap-tapping in the wall
Only from the forest
The screech-owl's call,
Only the cricket whistling
While the dewdrops fall,
So I know not who came knocking,
At all, at all, at all.


By Walter de la Mare.

A could relate to this one very well, as she had already been through some Enid Blyton mystery stories and Harry Potter I.

Had a lot of fun.