It's called 'The Littlest One' by Marion St John Webb, and long, long before I went to school to read it for myself, it could reduce me to tears as an Aunt or a cousin read it aloud. It was right at the beginning in the book of the same name, which probably means it got read more often that those on later pages, but to this day, it remains top of my list.
I'm sittin' on the doorstep,
and I'm eating bread and jam,
and I isn't crying really,
though I 'speks you think I am.
I'm feelin' rather lonely,
and I don't know what to do,
'cos there's no one here to play with
and I've broke my hoop in two.
I can hear the child'en playing,
but they sez they don't want me
'cos my legs are rather little,
an' I run so slow, you see.
So I'm sittin' on the doorstep
and I'm eating bread and jam,
and I isn't crying really,
though it feels as if I am.
Oh, this is a heart-breaker, Jinksy. Thank you for sharing since it is not a poem I have read before. Yet how it speaks to the isolation of the individual, especially in childhood.
ReplyDeleteKerry, the whole book deserves to be reprinted, in my opinion. Although its roots go back to the 1920's, the child's eye view of the world that the writer captured, is still a delight- like this one
DeleteI wonder what it's like
to be as good a gold?
'Cos that's how good I ought to be
I'm always being told.
I'd like to be like gold,
jus' once - jus' so's to see.
I wonder what would gold be like,
if gold was good as me?
Utterly delightful poetry ~~ so glad you introduced me.
DeleteThe loneliness of growing up, very lovely share Jinksy ~
ReplyDeleteThe one about the good as gold is a gem ~
Grace