KATE PUTNAM OSGOOD.
KRINKEN.
"Krinken" is the dearest of poems.
"Krinken was a little child.
It was summer when he smiled!"
Eugene Field, above all other poets, paid the finest tribute to
children. This poet only, could make the whole ocean warm because a
child's heart was there to warm it.
Krinken was a little child,--
It was summer when he smiled.
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Stretched its white arms out to him,
Calling, "Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!"
But the child heard not the sea
Calling, yearning evermore
For the summer on the shore.
Krinken on the beach one day
Saw a maiden Nis at play;
On the pebbly beach she played
In the summer Krinken made.
Fair, and very fair, was she,
Just a little child was he.
"Krinken," said the maiden Nis,
"Let me have a little kiss,--
Just a kiss, and go with me
To the summer-lands that be
Down within the silver sea."
Krinken was a little child--
By the maiden Nis beguiled,
Hand in hand with her went he
And 'twas summer in the sea.
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