AmyLowell:ThePaintedCeiling

My Grandpapa lives in a wonderful house

With a great many windows and doors,

There are stairs that go up, and stairs that go down,

And such beautiful, slippery floors.

But of all of the rooms, even mothers and mine,

And the bookroom, and parlour and all,

I like the green dining-room so much the best

Because of its ceiling and wall.

Right over your head is a funny round hole

With apples and pears falling through;

Theres a big bunch of grapes all purply and sweet,

And melons and pineapples too.

They tumble and tumble, but never come down

Though Ive stood underneath a long while

With my mouth open wide, for I always have hoped

Just a cherry would drop from the pile.

No matter how early I run there to look

It has always begun to fall through;

And one night when at bedtime I crept in to see,

It was falling by candle-light too.

I am sure they are magical fruits, and each one

Makes you hear things, or see things, or go

Forever invisible; but its no use,

And of course I shall just never know.

For the ladders too heavy to lift, and the chairs

Are not nearly so tall as I need.

Ive given up hope, and I feel I shall die

Without having accomplished the deed.

Its a little bit sad, when you seem very near

To adventures and things of that sort,

Which nearly begin, and then don and you know

It is only because you are short.