Digital Changeling

June 08, 2007

Poetry Friday, Poem from 1909

While I was sitting at home in the dark being sick on Thursday, it crossed my mind that once I could stand to look at my computer again I should consider writing up my poetry post for tomorrow, so I didn't forget. I don't really have the energy to sort through my old original poems or to write a new one, so I looked around for interesting things I had on hand.

Then I realized that I do have some interesting poems from the old fashion magazines that I collect. This poem is from the Sept issue of the magazine Paris Modes published in 1909 (follow the link for scans of the entire magazine). I found it amusingly ironic that the issue the poem describes is still plaguing parents today. :)

Why

We walked upon the beach one day,
My little boy and I,
And everything that lad did say
Began, alas! with "Why?"

'Twas, "Why is water wet, papa?"
And, "Why have fish scales?"
And, "Why is India so far?"
And, "Why aren't minnows whales?"

'Twas, "Why are beaches made of sand?"
And, "Why have lobsters claws?"
And, "Why doesn't sea-weed grow on land?"
And, "Why are sharks all jaws?"

And when to these--to every one--
I had to make reply,
"I really cannot tell, my son,"
He sadly asked me, "Why?"

posted by Eva @ 12:14 PM

2 comments links to this post

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Comments:

I love children's questions. All of them. I wish I had a trunk filled with the thousands upon thousands of questions my boys have asked over the years.(25, 23, and 16 y.o. now)

I can't wait for grandchildren someday so I can revel in the questions of small children again.

Even if they ask, (as my son asked my mother in law) Grandma, why do you have whiskers?

posted by  Kim from Hiraeth : 6/08/2007 8:13 PM

 

That is an awesome poem! At first I was just reveling in the great questions, but then I realized how perfect the ending is! It wonderfully conveys that moment when a kid is faced with the realization that their parents don't know everything despite the fact that they should and you know that they *do*, but for some reason they *don't*. There's sadness and a certain unwillingness to believe it, even when the child knows perfectly well that the adult in question really doesn't know the answers. And in just a few words, that poem gets that moment. I love it. Thank you so much for sharing that poem!

posted by  Katie : 6/09/2007 6:03 PM

 

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