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Amy Lowell - The Painted Ceiling
Work rating: Low

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 mother`s 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; 
There`s a big bunch of grapes all purply and sweet, 
And melons and pineapples too. 

They tumble and tumble, but never come down 
Though I`ve 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 it`s no use, 
And of course I shall just never know. 

For the ladder`s too heavy to lift, and the chairs 
Are not nearly so tall as I need. 
I`ve given up hope, and I feel I shall die 
Without having accomplished the deed. 

It`s a little bit sad, when you seem very near 
To adventures and things of that sort, 
Which nearly begin, and then don`t; and you know 
It is only because you are short.
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