Poems (Kennedy)/The Story Hour
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THE STORY HOUR
FROM all the city's haunts the children come
And crowd the quiet room, alert and still,
Their interest keyed, their very smiles and tears
Swayed ever at the story-teller's will.
And crowd the quiet room, alert and still,
Their interest keyed, their very smiles and tears
Swayed ever at the story-teller's will.
She stands among them with her face upraised,
Building anew the wonder-dreams of old.
At her command there grow to life again
The faded legends which the centuries fold.
Building anew the wonder-dreams of old.
At her command there grow to life again
The faded legends which the centuries fold.
And they who listen to her golden voice
See from the shadows visions strange arise—
Aladdin's palace glitters in the sun,
Rome burns again before their startled eyes.
See from the shadows visions strange arise—
Aladdin's palace glitters in the sun,
Rome burns again before their startled eyes.
They watch the Wise Men's camels cross the sands
Trailing the fadeless Star of Bethlehem;
And once again by "many-towered Camelot"
King Arthur's Knights ride in the lists for them.
Trailing the fadeless Star of Bethlehem;
And once again by "many-towered Camelot"
King Arthur's Knights ride in the lists for them.
They fight with Bruce, or hide with him in cave
Where spider's gossamer draperies cling;
Tell's arrow thrills them in its dizzy flight,
With captive Richard they hear Blondel sing.
Where spider's gossamer draperies cling;
Tell's arrow thrills them in its dizzy flight,
With captive Richard they hear Blondel sing.
They learn the story of the Pleiades
And shining constellations as they pass,
With fairies that hold tryst, or dance with her
Who wore the magic slippers made of glass.
And shining constellations as they pass,
With fairies that hold tryst, or dance with her
Who wore the magic slippers made of glass.
From history's page or legendary lore
The story-teller draws her varied theme,
And straight there springs to vivid life once more
Some long dead fact, some poet's golden dream;
The story-teller draws her varied theme,
And straight there springs to vivid life once more
Some long dead fact, some poet's golden dream;
For Old and New and Past and Present lend
A silver thread, a glowing jeweled bead
To weave into the fabric of a tale
That laughs with joy or teaches some high creed.
A silver thread, a glowing jeweled bead
To weave into the fabric of a tale
That laughs with joy or teaches some high creed.