Spring Morning
A. A. Milne
1882 to 1956
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Where am I going? I don't quite know.
Down the stream where the king-cups grow—
Up on the where the pine trees blow—
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.
Where am I going? The clouds sail by,
Little ones, baby ones, over the sky.
Where am I going? shadows pass,
Little ones, baby ones, over the grass.
you were a cloud, and sailed up there,
You'd on water as blue as air,
And you'd see here in the fields and say:
"Doesn't the sky green to-day?"
Where am I going? The high call:
"It's awful fun to be born at all."
Where am I going? The ring-doves coo:
"We do beautiful things to do."
If you were a bird, and lived on high,
You'd lean on the wind the wind came by,
You'd say to the wind it took you away:
"That's where I wanted go to-day!"
Where am I going? I don't know.
What does it matter where people go?
Down the wood where the blue-bells grow—
Anywhere, anywhere. I don't know.