Chamomile Tea

Outside the sky is light with stars;

There's a hollow roaring from the sea.

And, atlas! for the little almond flowers,

The wind is shaking the almond tree.

How little I thought, a year ago,

In the horrible cottage by the Lee

That he and I should be sitting so

And sipping a cup of chamomile tea.

Light as feathers the witches fly,

The horn of the moon is plain to see;

By firefly under a jonquil flower

A goblin toasts a bumble-bee.

We might be fifty, we might be five,

So snug, so compact, so wise are we!

Under the kitchen-table leg

My knee is pressing against his knee.

Our shutters are shut, the fire is low,

The tap is dripping peacefully;

The saucepan shadows on the wall

Are black and round and plain to see.

~ Katherine Mansfield ~